


The Alternative

by Demiii



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claude von Riegan Needs a Hug, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Edelgard von Hresvelg Needs a Hug, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, I try to be funny, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, i need sleep someone turn off my computer pls, im trying, still dont know how to tag and i never will :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 79,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demiii/pseuds/Demiii
Summary: Rhea looks at the son of Jeralt, the Blade Breaker and says:"I would like for you to be a professor for our Officer's Academy."Byleth looks at her and says:"No."
Comments: 25
Kudos: 38





	1. Cygnet Committee

**Author's Note:**

> So. 
> 
> This is an AU of the normal white clouds route, I won't go much farther after what happens post-timeskip but that's what it's mostly gonna be about. This is mostly for me to experiment with the plot and with dialogue, but if someone gets a kick out of it, then hey, I'm glad I could make you smile fam :)
> 
> I'm not super hardcore with ships, so not everyone's gonna get one. Probably no one except Byleth who would be a spoiler if I put it in the tags, so I'm gonna chill and wait until we get there, but you should be able to guess from the next chapter once that's out.
> 
> the big differences in characters are:  
> -Byleth isn't a walking manchild who doesn't know about the dominant religion in the land, but still in the dark about a lot of things he finds no interest in  
> -Byleth is much, much stronger than in the game  
> -Claude is an even bigger bastard than in the game
> 
> and if u are a:  
> -ignatz  
> -lorenz  
> -leonie  
> -ashe  
> super fan than this is not the thing for u, as I almost ignore most of them and will inevitably shit on the other (leonie). sorry but it's my fic and I vent on who want to vent on.
> 
> that's basically all I got
> 
> anyway, enjoy this

_I feel nothing._

Maybe that’s a bit much to start, though. 

When he was a child, he didn’t cry. As he got older, he realized just how strange that truly was, and as he got older he realized that he wasn’t very alike to other kids his own age. He never smiled when someone asked him how he was, he never cried when someone told him something sad, he never laughed out loud when someone told him a funny joke.

He was never very popular. His father always told him that it was because he was different and that others were afraid of things that they never understood. It sounded true enough, he supposed, but he’s never felt fear, he wouldn’t be a very good authority on such things. Kids would avoid him, called him ‘weird’ or ‘boring’; never really made him flinch or wince to hear the comments that were thrown around from village to village as they roamed the continent.

Speaking of his father, his father is Jeralt Eisner. From what the man told his son, he was a soldier from the kingdom of Faerghus, a kingdom to the north, an incredibly cold, rigid land. He was a soldier for a time, but after being discharged for reasons he wouldn’t say, he chose the nomadic life of a mercenary. 

It was somewhere around that time that his son was born. His mother died during labor.

That fact is the only thing that made him feel something in his stomach. His father said it’s called ‘sadness’ but he could never be sure about it.

From the age of six, he was trained to wield a sword and cast magic. From the age of twelve, he was trained to kill and survive. From the age of fourteen, he was trained to lead, even armies of men. The largest he’s ever led was somewhere around 350 men, give or take. That is a story of when they were hired to track down and bring to justice a sizable group of bandits that raided a keep while their lord was away for war. That was the first mission he ever led solo when he was but eighteen.

His father said ‘it’s just a couple of bandits. With this many men, you would never need me.’ He was right, even if it did spook the boy, as not one life was lost during that fight. Since then, he’s let him start to do solo operations within the same region and lead groups of his own. Not in the hundreds, mind you, more around fifty give or take. 

Ever since then and even before, they’ve lived in comfort. They travel, ease the people’s burdens of any who come to them and never worry about food on their plates or roofs over their heads.

But some things still eat at him.

Anywhere they go, he doesn’t understand what some people talk about: politics, societal structures, nobility versus commoners.

Most confusing are these things called Crests.

Much of his time when he’s not training, fighting, or not dying of hunger is spent reading and researching. He didn’t go to school, they always traveled too much to think about settling down in one place. His father taught him how to read and write but told him that anything he wanted to study would be up to him, though he would buy the books when he was younger. ‘I’m too old to be givin’ you a curriculum kid, tell me what you want to learn and we’ll grab you some text’ was what he said.

Most of his interests lie in what has to do with battle: strategies, weapons and technique, some magic here and there. History is in there as well, but he only read to see the mistakes of old and how to learn from them; the tales of glory and chivalry never did much for him, survival and victory mean much more. Other topics like botany, trap laying, and a little bit of general bestiary knowledge do very well in the line of work that he found himself in.

Lately, much of the reading he’s done has to do with these Crests. From the books he’s read, they are reportedly blessings from the Goddess, granting them powers to their holders. These powers range anywhere from being stronger to having an incredibly high aptitude for magic. They can be inherited through blood. When he asked his father if he had one, he didn’t respond for a very long time as he looked off into a tree line, eventually responding with a ‘no’ and a quick excuse to go to bed. He’s never seen him look like that before.

The book also stated how much Crests are valued in today’s society, seen as a sign of prestige. For something only inheritable by blood? Even if one put in a lifetime of work, a crestless person would be seen as less valuable than someone with a crest who was a failure?

That made no sense, he thought. He’d rather fight an army of a thousand with a Crestless master swordsman than a beginner with one. 

Ugh…

Thinking about all this is making his head hurt.

Peering over his shoulder at the setting sun in the distance through the window, he shook his head. He has been staring at the reflection of himself in a wall mirror for the past Goddess knows how long as he reflects on things that don’t really matter. Not to him, anyway. That whole business with Crests is for someone far above his own station as a simple mercenary.

As for the past, he’s grown much past it. If his title as the Ashen Demon is any testament to it.

Throwing off his coat and hanging it off the mirror he just had an existential crisis with for the past while he unstrapped his armor and placed it on the desk that sat on the side of the room and gave them a once over.

The set has served him well for years if it was a bit unorthodox. The matching set was a rich black with red adornments that ran staggered throughout. The pauldrons weren’t the blocky and bloated things that knights commonly wore, these were sleeker and still designed to absorb impact as well as reflect slashes and thrusts. Their compact design meant that it was going to hurt a lot more, but he could take much more damage than the knight who’s shoulder was already vulnerable to his sword. The chest armor was less ‘chest’ armor and more ‘hip and sides’ armor. In his own experience, the only people who go for thrusts most of the time are lancers, axemen and swordsman alike swung widely in an either horizontal or diagonal motion. The ones who sung horizontally were those rushed into battle with no training and were already dead, while the diagonal ones were veterans, the diagonal swing takes less to recover from and less energy to throw out. Those that actually hit him would have their swing deflected off his shoulders or hip from the armor and would be forced into the defensive. Completing the set was the poleyn, the armor for the knees. These were just safety nets, more or less, wasn’t often that an opponent tried to swipe his knees and hope for death by tripping. 

With the literal weight off his shoulders gone, he threw himself into the bed prepared for him and tried to close his eyes and get some rest for the early rise tomorrow. 

As his mind slowed and drifted off to sleep, he prayed that he didn’t have a dream like the others for one night.

* * *

_Ah, hells. My prayers went unanswered._

No sooner after closing his eyes did he feel himself descending into another realm of strange dreams. Those were common his whole life, for some odd reason. he dreamt of many things: people with unfamiliar faces, wars he’s never participated in, battles he’s never fought, swords he’s never swung. A common dream was a simple one, a small girl with green hair upon a stone throne, sleeping and snoring away peacefully.

Oh, how he envied that girl. 

When his eyes opened again, he thought he was simply dreaming of that girl again. There she sat, a dozen or so feet away from him, on her stone throne, head resting on her arms resting on the armrest. Her breaths came out in ragged, slow snores. They were cute, it made even his stone face’s lips tug upward a bit. 

When he tried to move his head and found that could actually move his head, that’s where the thought that maybe this was no dream began to fill his head. His eyes were greeted with darkness. A bleak, black wall that seemed to cut out any light from whence it came, if there was any to be found. He found it unlikely, combined with the lack of draft and the overbearing feeling of dead air that surrounded him, the only conclusions that he could find was that he was either buried alive or stuck between dream and reality. 

The fact that he could see himself took the former right off the list. The latter was. 

Head on a swivel, he tried to best associate himself with his surroundings. The issue was actually trying to see them. The world around him was covered in the darkness, all he could make out was the mountain of stone in front of him, he couldn’t discern color or age from the looks of them. Facing straight ahead, he picked up the detail that he missed before.

The girl was positively glowing, literally. She was a light source in this dark void. The light didn’t go very far, but it spread enough to outline her whole body and serve as a silhouette in this overbearing dark.

Then her eyes began to open, she fluttered them for a second and raised her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. She noticed him in the corner of her eye and leaned forward in her seat, curiosity starting to fill her widened eyes as she rested her forearms on her knees.

“Oh my…” Her voice was young yet thoughtful as she spoke. “I wonder how you got here…’

She leaned back in her throne, her elbow resting on the armrest and her hand resting on her cheek. She raised her other hand in a beckoning motion.

“Come to me, I wish to have a look at you.”

The young man stepped forward, his jacket and armor shining in the light that radiated off this young girl’s body. He idly moved a strand of blue hair away from his blue eyes as the girl’s vibrant green studied him like a textbook. She hummed as she did so.

“I have not seen the likes of you before. What might you be?” She asked.

He blinked at her.

“I’m a ghost.” 

The girl’s eyes narrowed as she shook her head.

“Keep your wit in line.” 

The boy sensed that he was in danger, but also that this girl was something that he could not explain. Perhaps her warning should be heeded.

“I’m human.” He answered.

“Then you must have a name?”

“Byleth. Byleth Eisner.”

“Byleth…” She mumbled the name under her breath before releasing a slight chuckle and leaning forward, her hands on her knees. “I shall not ever grow used to the sound of human names.” She paused, a smile spreading on her face. “What might your day of birth be?”

“The eighteenth of the Wyvern Moon.”

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth gaped as he heard his answer.

“Wonders never cease! We share our day of birth.” Her features turned to a kind smile. “How strange.” 

She went back down to her resting position and leaned on her hand again. She yawned loudly into the other.

“It’s time for another nap.” Her eyes closed fully, sleep overtaking her. “It is almost time… to begin.”

Her snores returned from her nose as she drifted off into another slumber. As her eyes closed, Byleth could feel sleep leaving him, along with the shaking of his shoulder.

* * *

Red, blue, and yellow. Primary colors never have an easy time fitting in with each other. Two of them? Easy. All three at once, though, and that’s a bad recipe for a fashion disaster.

But such were the ways of tradition at the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach. Each house adorned with the color of their homeland, and students are sorted according to from whence they came. 

Those from the Adrestian Empire are relegated to the red house, the Black Eagles. A monarchy governed by the emperor that ran across the entire southern coast and up halfway of the continent. Home to the most populated city on the continent as well as the largest of three nations that make up the land of Fodlan.

Those from the Leicester Alliance are relegated to the yellow house, the Golden Deer. A republic of nobles to the east and the only one of the three to not be ruled by a single figure, rather a council of nobles that each family appoints a seated member.

Those from the Kingdom of Faerghus are relegated to the blue house, The Blue Lions. A monarchy ruled by the king that governs over a cold north, whose land has seen many tragedies, most recently the Tragedy of Duscur, which left the kingdom without a king until the heir to the throne becomes of age.

The three houses are separated from each other, so to speak. The entire place is structured so that the three houses are not encouraged to intermingle, but to constantly compare themselves to one another. The biannual Battle of the Eagle and the Lion comes to mind as the students fight in a mock battle. It is widely advertised within the monastery of Garreg Mach and is one of the most widely publicized outings of the school year. The only event where the walls between houses are broken down is the annual ball.

Of course, with Claude Von Riegen holding the reins, anything is possible. 

Claude was the leader of the Golden Deer, as well as the future leader of the Alliance. He was also an incredibly well-known trickster. His escapades are well known throughout the academy, shining examples being putting a spider on a girl's head while they slept, flicking wads of paper at his teachers and somehow getting away with it, or the incredible Ponzi scheme of creating a coffee business called Big Face Coffee. It brought in a profit.

The girl that had the spider put on her face was sitting next to him on a fallen log in the middle of a dark forest. Her name was Edelgard Von Hresvelg. She was the heir apparent of the Adrestian Empire and leader of the Black Eagles. If Claude were to describe her, he would describe her as ‘maybe a little stuck up, but charmingly so’. From another perspective, Edelgard would describe herself as constantly between a rock and a hard place, but trying to find the enjoyment that such situations could bring. In reality, it wasn’t too far off.

The boy that sat across from them with their back to a tree was the crown prince of Faerghus and leader of the Blue Lions, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He was obscenely polite, always mindful of others before himself. Edelgard herself noticed the odd look in his eyes, the bags under them, and the way that he drooped his shoulders when not on the battlefield. When on the battlefield, Dimitri turned into an animal, eschewing all known technique hammered into him from years of training and lessons and fighting like an animal under duress, fighting to stay alive.

Back to Claude, he had somehow convinced the three that they should have a fun get together, try and break the walls between the houses that never happen, to the delight of the Church of Seiros. Edelgard uncharacteristically was the one who had to convince Dimitri and suggested the fun camp out the three houses were currently having. The leaders were scattered around a campfire, drinks (non-alcoholic) in hand, ready to gale each other with story upon story to entertain each other far into the evening. 

Unfortunately for Claude, his idea backfired on him as soon as he sat down.

“Why would you ever sneak into a girl’s room, much less drop a spider on her head?” Edelgard asked, eyebrows furrowing at the resident clown of the school. 

The clown shrugged and took a sip of his drink, pinkie out.

“You know, they say the Goddess forgives all should they admit their sin,” Claude commented.

“I am _not_ the Goddess.” Edelgard spat, words as sharp as her ax. 

Claude faked a wince and shrugged again.

“Oh, your words do hurt me so.” 

“I feel like every time we go somewhere together it’s just you two back and forth.” Dimitri turned to Edelgard. “Couldn’t you let him go just for the night?”

Edelgard’s hard gaze shifted toward the crown prince.

“Tell me, Dimitri, why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Because you do it all the time anyway, I’m sure your stare could use a rest.”

Edelgard held it for a moment before relenting with a sigh.

“Fine. Just for the night, I will spare you, Claude.” 

Claude winked at his fellow heir as he stood, an arm behind him as he bowed.

“And I thank you for your endless generosity, your majesty. Clearly, your benevolence is only matched by your shining beauty.” 

“I’m about to show exactly how far it shines if you don’t stop talking,” Edelgard said, her voice and face equally blank. The words made even Claude relent, however, as he took his seat next to Edelgard once more. 

Silence surrounded them for the next few minutes.

Two of them couldn’t have said it was uncomfortable.

One of them was internally screaming at it.

Thankfully for her, someone tried to add some voice to the outing.

“It’s not often any of us be with each other like this,” Dmitri commented. Edelgard looked at him, while Claude put his hands behind his back and crack his back. Loudly.

“Yeah, can’t say I hate it, though,” Claude said with a groan, recovering from his vertebrae popping back in. Edelgard stared at the fire burning in front of them.

“Neither can I.” She added.

The silence consumed the three once again, but even Edelgard was sitting in what she deemed comfortable silence this time.

The comfortable feeling shattered as Claude stood up, a rare face of seriousness adorning his features. His eyes narrowed to the distant tree line as his frown grow deeper and deeper. Dmitri looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it, Claude?” 

Claude raised a finger to his lips. That’s when the other two heard it, too. 

Bristling. Cracking of twigs. Whispers of hushed voices. The unsheathing of weapons. The draws of bowstrings.

“We need to go. Now.” Edelgard said, as stern as she would address a soldier of her own military.

“There’s a village not too far from here to the south. Remire.” Dmitri said, grabbing his spear from behind his seat. Edelgard grabbed her ax and Claude grabbed his bow, raising a quiver over and onto his shoulder.

“Then that’s where we’ll go. Run for it.” Claude yelled at the last bit, leaving his peers in his dust. Dmitri shook his head.

“When will he ever learn…” He commented. Edelgard shrugged.

“This time, he might have saved our lives, I think we can forgive him this time. We need to catch up.”

The other two left in the dust began to run after their classmates. Not a minute after, they heard bandits yelling from their campsite, their shadows visible from the fire still flickering in the distance. 

“After them!” 

The students heard footsteps. A lot of footsteps.

* * *

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

Byleth felt the shaking of his shoulder and the gruff voice of his father taking him out of his dreams. It wasn’t the first time he’s done it, and it was never a bad thing. Most of the time, his father had saved him from having to see another head cut off for the billionth time. Byleth groaned and rose to his feet, standing in front of his father.

His father, Jeralt, wasn’t much taller than him. He wore steel plate sparingly around his arms and legs, the scale of his armor covered in an orange tabard with a fur collar. His blonde hair ran through his hair in an undercut, with a braided ponytail coming out the back. His mustache-less beard matched his hair, and his face was covered in scars from past battles. His brown eyes looked at him with a firm gaze. 

If you looked at them side by side, you would never have guessed they were father and son. 

“Were you having that dream again?” His father asked him. 

Byleth sighed and walked over to his desk and began strapping his armor back together. He did it from the knees to the chest, threw his jacket over, and then the shoulders. Every time. It was a ritual for him.

“About a war, this time.” He answered.

Byleth had told his father about his recurring dreams. The fact that they’ve been repeating since before he could remember was the thing that truly scared him. He confided in his father about his dreams about war, and once or twice about the girl sleeping on a throne, but he didn’t know anything about it. This time, he decided that his father didn’t need to know the girl actually talked back to him.

“Armies fighting on a vast field, right? There hasn’t been a battle like that in over three hundred years.” Jeralt looked lost in thought for a moment but quickly brought himself back to the present with a shake of his head.

“Shelf that for now. We’ve gotta get moving, next stop is the kingdom. It’s about an hour or so until dawn, so we’ve got time until we have to leave.”

A loud ‘click’ came from Byleth’s shoulders as the last of his armor fell into place. He turned around to face his father again and nodded. Jeralt nodded back, but a loud commotion from outside the house brought both their gazes toward the door. A solid second of looking brought their gazes back to each other.

“Why are all of them ready this early? This lot is way too lazy for this kind of pep.” Jeralt commented, closing his eyes.

The door to the room swung open as a company mercenary entered the room. He nodded toward Byleth before addressing his leader.

“Sir Jeralt. Sorry to interrupt but your presence is needed.”

“What’s happened?” Jeralt asked.

“The…” The mercenary shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “Long story short, three students came running in the village and are being chased by bandits. Scouts saw them tailing them about an hour ago.”

Jeralt breathed an even heavier sigh and shook his head.

“Sounds like a real handful,” He looked toward Byleth. “Come on kid, time to save some more unfortunate souls.”

The merc from earlier raised his fist to his chest as a salute as the two heads of the mercenary company left the building through the still-open front door. They passed building after building as they walked to the entrance of the Remire village. This wasn’t the first time they’ve been here, and it wouldn’t be the last. It was at the center of the Adrestian Empire, and not egregiously far from the border to the Kingdom of Faerghus. The locals were familiar with their merry band, and would always give them a warm welcome and offer reprieve whenever they had business in the empire.

“Students, he said? There are not many schools nearby here. The closest city with one is in the lordship of Arundel.” Byleth voiced his thoughts as they continued to walk through the empty streets.

“True, but there’s one school that’s closer than that.” His father responded. Byleth raised an eyebrow.

“Which is?”

Jeralt didn’t get a chance to respond as the pair ran into the three students. They stood not far from the entrance to the village. The bright colors of their uniforms making them a beacon in the dark.

A boy of tanned complexion with dark, spikey hair, and a yellow cape stood tall with his arms crossed. He was the first to notice their approach judging from him being the only one to be facing them when they turned the corner. Next to him sat a blonde boy of paler complexion and blue cape, eyes glued to the horizon back where they came. Next to him, a girl of pure white hair and bright purple eyes and a red cap stood with her hands on her hips. She heard their footsteps a second later than the tan one. Finally noticing their approach, the blonde one stood up and offered his arm across his body as a sign of respect.

“I apologize for our intrusion. We would not bother you were we not desperate.” He said, his voice was soft and polite. Jeralt ignored his sign as he and Byleth stood side by side in front of the kids.

“What could a bunch of kids possibly need at five in the morning?” Jeralt asked, forgetting what his watchman just told him.

“Bandit trouble, is it?” Byleth asked, his arms crossed. The blonde one nodded.

“Yes, if you could lend us aid, we would be deeply thankful.”

“Bandits, this early?” Jeralt asked. Byleth concurred, this was early, even for taxing highwaymen.

“It’s true, They came for us while we were at camp.” The girl said, her voice calm and smooth.

“We’re outnumbered,” The tan one ran a hand through his hair. “They’re after our lives and our gold.”

Jeralt scanned the group again.

“You’re quite calm, the situation as it maybe.” Jeralt’s eyes squinted as he examined the group further. His eyes going to their outfits. He opened his mouth to speak.

He was interrupted by the same watchman from earlier running from another direction. Byleth knew there weren’t any mages in this company but if he found out there was someone who knew Warp then he would force them to teach him ASAP.

“Bandits are right outside the village. Quite a few, too.”

“They followed you here,” He looked toward his son. “We need to repel them, or else they’ll go for the village to take out their anger.”

Byleth nodded. Jeralt titled his head toward Byleth as he addressed the students again.

“Listen to him, he’ll get you out of this alive.”

The students nodded.

“I need to get my horse, I’ll leave this to you,” Jeralt said and left his son with the students.

Byleth looked at what the students were carrying: a lance, a bow, and an ax.

“Any of you know magic?”

A three-man chorus of ‘no’s. 

Neither would the bandits. That'll be child’s play. Literally.

Byleth stepped past them and drew his sword, stopping at the entrance to the village. He turned his head to the side.

“Blondie, girlie, stand on my flanks. Pretty boy, stay a couple of steps behind us. Stay in formation unless I say otherwise.” 

He saw the three students glance at each other before the one in yellow moved forward. The other students hesitated and stared at him.

“What? He called me pretty.” 

He was the funny one, Byleth guessed.

The other two stepped up to his flanks, literally forming a wall at the entrance to the village. Not too long after, the beating of hooves on the dirt could be heard as Jeralt and his horse came up from behind them. He fell into a normal formation and the left side flank, next to the girl. 

On the other side, they could see the enemy start to leak out of the forest. Around a dozen bandits were lining up, maybe less, from how scattered they were. As the bandits came into his sight, so were the student's weapons. Blondie had his spear raised in a fashion of pure experience. The girl rested her ax on her shoulder to get the most out of her first wing, and the other already had an arrow nocked. 

This was better than he was expecting.

Three bandits lined up in front of them, all three bearing swords in varying positions, stances, and grips; none of which looked very practiced. Also not a bad way to gauge exactly what he was working with here. 

“Take on who’s in front of you. Pretty boy, you shoot whoever thinks needs the most help. Cover us if need be.” Byleth ordered.

“Gotcha.” He heard from behind him.

“Go.” 

Byleth moved forward. He walked slowly to his opponent as his shoulders hunched at the mere presence of how was approaching him. The bandit raised his sword with both hands and swung with all his might at the approaching mercenary.

_Parry. Discombobulate. Mercy._

He raised his sword and swung it out of the way, the bandits grip losing one hand as he almost lost his balance. The bandit regained it quickly and attempted another blow, but a sharp jab from Byleth to the throat cut off his breathing, and he dropped his sword to grab at his neck. Byleth grabbed his shoulder and brought him into the tip of his blade, twisting it, and releasing his body from both his grip and sword, letting him fall to the ground to die. 

He looked to his right and saw Blondie throw his ax around to sweep at a bandit's legs. He jumped over it, but an arrow went right between his eyes meant he was dead before he hit the ground.

Byleth heard the archer laugh from behind him and an ‘I had him’ from beside him. He looked to his left and saw the girl drive the butt of the ax handle into a bandits midsection and the head of it go right through his shoulder. He was likely dead before he hit the ground, too.

Byleth looked back in front of him to examine the hilltops above. They were small hilltops, but any archer worth his salt would be able to take advantage of whatever edge in height they could get. There were no archers as far as he could see, which was fantastic, as it meant they could just blitzkrieg their position if they wanted to. Seeing as how these are a bunch of kids, though, Byleth knew better than to do that. 

Jeralt walked his horse over to their position, his eyes fixed solely on his son.

“There is a group of four on the flank way out of the way to the left. I’m going to deal with them. Go for the far-right, their leader is up there. Big burly man,” Jeralt nodded. “I would say good luck, but you won’t need it.” Then he rode off, the sound of yelling from the direction that he rode off in. 

Byleth stared at the direction of the sounds before turning around and facing her newfound comrades. 

“Come on.” 

Byleth started to walk off toward the right side of the battlefield, hurried footsteps coming from behind him. He walked to the top of one of the small hills that sat on the outskirts of Remire. His eyes scattered across the battlefield, settling on the big, burly man visible from all the way over here. There were four men including him. The big man had an ax, the other three holding swords. He got on a knee and tried to judge the distance between them. A hundred feet, give or take.

“Pretty boy.” 

“At your service.”

“How good’s your shot?”

“If you’re asking if I can headshot them from here, even I’m not that good.”

Byleth shook his head.

“Not that, you think you can distract them. Any hit’s a bonus.”

“A feint to give us time to move in?” Blondie muttered. “A good strategy.” Byleth shrugged.

“You don’t get as far as I have without being able to strategize.” Byleth nodded to the one in the yellow cape.

“On your mark.” 

“Aye, aye!” He said with enthusiasm. He raised his bow and took aim, tongue hanging out as he waited. 

“Anytime now, Claude.” The girl said.

“Shhh.” Byleth shushed. “He’s waiting for the wind.”

“Why would he-.” 

The gust of the breeze came, and the pretty boy, now reveled as Claude, let his arrow loose. The wind carried the arrow farther than it would go normally. If accuracy was not your goal, but distance, then it was a solid plan. The arrow didn’t hit any of them, but the loud whizzing from the arrow startled the bandits. They all turned around as it landed past them, commotion rising in their ranks, most notably their leader.

“Move up, you too, Claude.”

“Ooh,” He cooed. “We’re on first names now.”

Byleth ignored the funny man and ran forward, his blade raised across his body. His sword came across the first bandit that was still gawking at the noise they heard a minute ago. He threw the sword across the bandit’s back, a diagonal gash in their body as he fell to the ground, bleeding out. The girl and Blondie ran past him to engage their own enemies. Girlie went for the big boss man, while Blondie went for the one that flanked him. 

Byleth moved to find the fourth bandit, who was already charging him, similar to the first bandit he had killed.

_Parry. Discombob-._

His planning meant nothing, as an arrow went through the air and stuck the bandit right in the neck. Blood spurted from the hole in his neck, splattering against the arrow. He fell to the ground to bleed out. Byleth looked back behind him, at a smiling and winking Claude who was giving him a thumbs-up, which Byleth returned with one of his own.

He turned around to see what the other two were up to. Blondie and his bandit had shifted their scuffle to a good distance away, giving him a little more trouble than the others, but the kid should be able to take care of it.

The girl, on the other hand, had just thrown the bandit leader on his ass. She parried an ax hit at the cost of losing her grip on her ax and losing it, the blow coming from the sole of her boot. Byleth started to walk toward them.

One of the first rules Jeralt had taught him when he first held a sword: never lose your weapon.

The leader recognized that and jumped up to his feet in an athletic display impressive for his size. His eyes almost bulged from their sockets as he held his ax in both hands and charged the white-haired girl. She drew a dagger from the small of her back in an attempt to parry it. It was a small chance that it would work, but it was the best chance she had.

Byleth went from a walk to a run. A run to a sprint.

She was going to die.

The leader was in striking distance. Byleth was close enough. He came to a skidding halt, grabbing her should with one hand and hulking down in front of her. Her gasp could’ve been heard from the hills below.

He heard the battle cry of the bandit, the air break as the ax came down, about to hit his back.

He closed his eyes, ready.

And then…

He felt nothing.

Not his skin tear as the blade ran to his back.

Not the scream as the girl hears it.

Not the yelling of his father.

Nothing.

He opened his eyes and saw…

Also nothing. 

The depths of blackness was all that awaited his opened eyes. It seemed… familiar. Like he was just here.

“Honestly! How stupid could you be?!”

Ah. That was why it felt so familiar here. 

He turned to the source of the chastisement. The little girl with the green hair atop a stone throne. Ironically, despite the urgency of her tone, she looked as bored and as tired as Byleth had ever seen here. 

“It’s like you’re trying to get me killed!”

She sighed heavily, heavy enough to make her whole body move in harmony with the breath.

“Well, no harm is done. If you do not know the value of your own life, you wouldn’t protect it.” She continued with a fervent shake of her head.

Byleth sheathed his sword and narrowed her eyes at the upstart little goblin, who was now standing up and gave a single clap as if giving thanks. He was sure that was not what the gesture meant.

“Well, it’s up to me to guide you,”

Guide?

“You may call me Sothis.”

Sothis?

“But I’m also known as ‘the beginning’.”

The beginning?

Maybe he was really dead, and this is what the Goddess was. A tiny gremlin with big hair who scolded him like she was his big sister. 

As he went over all this, she was mumbling some things to herself with her hand on her chin, eyes closed. She could be heard saying ‘Sothis… the beginning… who once called me that…’ That was all Byleth could get, anyway.

Byleth stared at her with blank eyes. Which was his normal look, but if he could choose, that’s what he would do anyway.

“What are you talking about?” He asked. Finally, Sothis opened her eyes and regarded him.

“I was not able to remember my name, until now. How odd.”

Her eyebrows fell and a scowl entered her features as she looked at him.

“That look on your face. You think me a mere child who forgot her own name?!”

“Yes.”

“That ‘child’ just saved your life! What does that make you?” 

“Older than a child.”

Sothis began to laugh, but her eyebrows staying in place told another story.

“How cute. You look the part but are you really an adult. You threw yourself before an ax to save just one young girl.”

Byleth almost opened his mouth to clap back, but Sothis had more things to say.

“Yet all is well, I have stopped the flow of time for now. You would have died had I let things run its course.”

Well shit. Even he could’ve told you that. 

Byleth took a deep breath. 

Don’t be petty, she saved your life.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t need it, as you dying means I would as well,” Her features of anger relaxed. “But it is welcome, nonetheless.” 

“So, what now?”

“When time begins again, the ax will rend your flesh and you will die,” Sothis explained, emotionless.

“So, unless you can turn back time, I’m dead?”

“Oh, but I can.”

A yellow pattern came into the space in front of Sothis. It resembled a clock, but not one Byleth had ever seen. She began to fiddle with it, her hands going to and fro.

“I cannot wind back time too far, but you are aware of what’s to come, meaning you can protect yourself and the girl this time.”

Her hands returned to her sides.

“Now, go. You who bear the flames within. Drift through the flow of time to find the answers that you seek.”

With that, Sothis held her hand out, and Byleth felt back where he was. The girl he was holding, the ax tickling his back; then he felt himself move. He felt every step he took as he ran towards the girl before. When he regained control of himself again, he set out in a dead sprint, he had barely made it the first time, but if he had time to set his feet, this would be simple.

What do you know, he got time to spare.

When he set his feet, he got there as the bandit was barely halfway toward them. The girl still gasped loudly from behind him as she lowered her dagger into her sheath, recognizing that she was in no imminent danger.

“You’ll die!” The bandit yelled as he brought his ax down with all the force he could muster at that moment, but strength didn’t amount to much to Byleth. He was too good for that.

_Parry. Discombobulate._

He raised his sword with two hands, and at the very moment, their blades were to touch he gave a small push with his blade. It was enough to throw the blow off target and brought him in close enough from his overcommitment to his swing. He switched his grip on his sword to reverse and jabbed at his face with the butt of the sword. The ax went spinning off into the distance, while the bandit flew off to the ground.

Byleth lowered his sword and sheathed it, watching the bandit with unwavering eyes.

“You okay?” He asked the girl. He heard her swallow a lump in her throat.

“Yes. Thank you for the aid.”

“Hey, over here!” He heard Claude yell.

He turned around to face the girl, shrugging. His inability to smile on command made reassuring difficult. That was the best he could do.

“It was nothing.” He said. 

The worst lie he ever told in his entire life.

Claude and Blondie came running striking distance, the latter was done with his battle and the former with whatever support he was providing. The four formed a loose circle around each other, no one said a word, the students were mostly just glad that no one was hurt and they were out of the metaphorical woods; seeing as how they were in literal woods. Byleth just didn’t know what to say.

The clopping of Jeralt’s horse brought everyone back to Earth. He stopped next to Byleth.

“Hey, did you…” He began to ask with a quizzical look but was stopped by sounds of heavy rustling from the west. 

Three men came out of the woodwork. Two holding axes, dressed in the style of brigands. The third was wearing a heavy plate with a spiked pauldron, and a flowing white cape with gold embroidery of a symbol he didn’t recognize. He had short brown hair and a mustache of only the sides. A ‘handlebar’, is what he believed is what it was called.

“The Knights of Seiros are here! We’ll cut you down for terrorizing our students!” The one in armor yelled so loud, anything in a five klick radius must have heard it. “The thieves are running, after them!” He ordered his palls after the escaping thieves, which after Byleth turned to look, discovered they did, in fact, run away. Didn’t bother him much, to say the truth.

He ran towards the group, the sparkles in the student's eyes meaning they definitely knew this guy. He stopped just in front of them, hoisting his ax on his shoulder. He gave a broad grin towards Byleth.

“The students are unharmed, I thank you with everything I have!” He looked toward his father, who let out a groan after getting a closer look at the knight.

“Ugh… Why him?” Jeralt rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He jumped off his horse and stood side-by-side with his son. The knight took a few steps closer, his face shining just as bright as his polished steel armor.

“Captain Jeralt?! It’s been ages! I haven’t heard anything from you in twenty years! I always knew you were alive, you just didn’t want to be found! Am I right?” 

Jeralt rubbed his forehead again.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Alois. Just as loud as ever. And don’t call me captain, I left a long time ago.” He said, a groan leaking into every syllable. “I’m just a mercenary these days, who has work to do. Goodbye, old friend.”

“Oh no, no, no! I insist that you return to the monastery with me!” 

Byleth glanced at the students. Even Claude was looking at Jeralt with a little pity. Jeralt was looking toward the sky with a look that Byleth couldn’t place. Regret? Longing? Reflection? He knew it was under ‘sad’.

“Garreg Mach Monastery. I guess this was inevitable.” He said, almost mournfully. Mostly to himself.

“And how about you, kid? Who might you be?”

Byleth looked back at Alois and gave him a curt nod.

“My name is Byleth, he’s my father.”

Alois let out another booming laugh.

“You look nothing alike, but you share his brusque manner of talking! I’d love for you to see the monastery, as well. You will join me, won’t you?”

Byleth looked toward his father, an eyebrow raised. One of his few consistently moving parts of his face.

Jeralt locked eyes with him for a moment, before looking away to the ground and sighing.

“Ugh…” He groaned for the umpteenth time this conversation.

“What’s wrong, captain? You wouldn’t be planning to run off again?” Alois asked. Jeralt shook his head slowly before raising his head and meeting Alois’s eyes.

“Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros.” He nodded again.

Alois’s grin grew as wide as his face would let it, and turned to begin the march back to the village, Jeralt right behind him.

“The Knights of Seiros… They do seem skilled.”

It was Byleth’s turn to groan. Now he could hear the gremlin in his own waking head.

“I can hear you, fool! Now get going, your presence is required.”

After Byleth’s turn to shake his head, he marched behind his father and the students behind him as they walked back toward Remire.

* * *

After gathering the few possessions he needed, mostly books and maintenance equipment for his sword, Byleth walked back to the entrance he stood at not too long ago. The three students were already standing there and acknowledging his approach. The girl nodded, a little too enthusiastic than normal.

“Thank you again for the help, your skill is incredible. Your father would also be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knights of Seiros often praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?”

That he never told me any of that.

Thankfully, Claude butted in the conversation to save him from saying that out loud.

“Hey! I’d love to bend your ear while we travel. It’s a loooooong walk back. I should mention that we three are students of the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing… training exercise while we heard the bandits sneaking upon us.”

“You were also the first to run off.” The girl added. Claude whistled with a smirk shamelessly plastered on his face.

“Oh, but true! I was the first to make a ‘strategic retreat’. It would’ve worked if these two blubbering fools didn’t make all that noise and make every single one of those bandits chase after us. Completely ridiculous.” 

“Ah, that’s what you were thinking. I thought you were being a decoy, I could’ve sworn they heard your wails of fear from even this village.”

Claude chuckled.

“Ah, man. That’s low hanging fruit.”

“His intentions were clear as day, you will prove a lacking ruler if cannot see the truth behind someone’s words.” The girl butted in.

“As will you if you take everyone’s word with a grain of salt.”

Claude scooted closer to Byleth.

“And here, Mr. Eisner, is another royal debate from their highnesses Dimitri and Edelgard.” Ding. “I wonder how being completely predictable affects someone’s ability to wield power.”

“And as the embodiment of distrust, what do you say?” Byleth asked.

“Oh ho! I think it reeks of naivete.” Claude slapped him on the shoulder.

The girl brushed her hand off, like swatting away a fly.

“Me? Naive? Are you unable to stay quiet, or have you so little self-awareness that you cannot see your reflection in a mirror?” She asked, a nerve clearly touched.

Blondie held out both hands like separating two zoo animals from another fight.

“In any case, I would like to speak with you, if I may have a moment.” Byleth nodded. “The way you fought the bandits and ordered us was inspiring! It made me realize how much I truly have to learn.”

“That skill is why I must ask you to lend your service to the empire. I should tell you, I am no mere student, I am the-.”

“Let me finish, Edelgard.” Ding ding ding. “Let me finish my own offer. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus would like to extend to you the same offer.”

“Damn, you two sure are quick on the draw. How tactless of them to offer you a job as soon as they meet you.” Claude said to Byleth, shaking his head. “I was at least going to wait until we were in private before I shot my own offer at you, not before developing a deep and lasting friendship on the way back.”

“What do you think, capable stranger? What bait’s got you biting?”

“It seems the place of birth is important to these children,” Sothis mumbled in his head.

Byleth gave them each an equally blank stare. 

“How about we wait until we get to the monastery before I answer literally any of that?”

Truth be told, he cares about none of them, but these kids are a rambunctious lot. Thankfully, he didn’t have to hear another word about as Alois came by to save the day.

“All set?”

Byleth nodded.

“Then let us be off!” Alois announced as he surged forward to lead the march.

“You know… Each of them is very unique.” He heard Sothis mumble.

_I agree._

“Oh? In what ways, do you find?”

_Edelgard is refined, but her eyes are constantly evaluating everything. Mostly me, as tonight showed._

_Dimitri is sincere and polite to no fault, but there’s a darkness that I can’t shake when I’m near him._

_Claude seems happy-go-lucky and always smiling, but it never reaches his eyes._

“Very interesting, indeed. I came up with similar things myself.” Sothis yawned loudly. “Well, this isn’t the place to dwell on such things, that would be when we get to the monastery, as they call it. I’m going to take a nap in the meantime.”

_…cool. I’ll wake you when we get there Sothis._

“And I thank you, boulder.” She said as she went silent.

_Did she call me a boulder? What does that even mean?_

These were the questions he had time to answer as he followed Alois to Garreg Mach Monastery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah yeah yeah, retelling of the prologue, blah blah blah
> 
> It has to be done in a lot of stories. Byleth in this is going to be different than the canon byleth and I want to make that clear with the way he thinks and the way he talks. Not a big sample size right now but we'll get there as he starts roaming the monastery halls and doing whatever he does. what will he do? 
> 
> I DONT KNOWWWW
> 
> that's a lie I know exactly what he's gonna do.
> 
> s/o to jimmy butler getting 20 a night on the court and twenty bucks per cup. god bless u brocolli head
> 
> anyway, I'm gonna pass out since I got work in 7ish hours. see yall later


	2. A New Career in a New Town

Garreg Mach Monastery. Coming out the cover of the forest above and gazing upon its stone walls, its forward checkpoints, and the sheer scale of it all, Byleth thought of one thing as it drowned out the voices of his newfound companions.

This is no church, this is a fortress.

Garreg Mach was not meant to be a symbol of the Goddess, a shining beacon of hope that any and all peoples may flock toward in their hour of need. It was not a place that would never discriminate against you based on where you are from, what you do, what Crest you may or may not bear. It was not a place that gives shelter to the weak, guidance to the blind or hopes to the hopeless. No, Byleth had seen too many structures, studied too much to have such a blind view because this was under the veil of religious belief.

Garreg Mach was a statement, a dare; that if you should dare challenge that the church of Seiros wasn’t the power that you should be kneeling under, you would dare invoke its wrath. Not the Adrestian Empire and its long legacy of strong and powerful rulers. Not the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and its never-ending sense of pride and no matter how many times they’ve been kicked down, they get back up. Not the Leicester Alliance and its many noble houses and great leaders and no end of strategists. 

None of them matter in the eyes of Seiros, and you may face her knight’s wrath should you dare and try to rise above them.

Byleth sighed as he escaped his own head, hearing Edelgard mumble something along the lines of ‘there it is…’ as they approached the monastery.

Speaking of Edelgard, Byleth was interested in these three as he mentioned to Sothis earlier.

Per their introductions, each of these three students was all heirs to the thrones-or-throne-equivalent to their respective nations. Their sudden job offers made much more sense to him, now. 

Edelgard, princess of Adrestia.

Dimitri, crown prince of Faerghus.

Claude, soon-to-be leader of Leicester.

If this was just the tip of the iceberg, Byleth was very interested in what else was awaiting him when he stepped into the walls of Garreg Mach. 

The walls became closer and closer as they marched, Alois and his two aides spoke with Jeralt as they reminisced about the good ol’ days or whatever people their age did. He was flanked by the students, and it just struck him how this was the first time in a long while that he was around people his own age. Granted, they were three or four years younger than him, but young adults nonetheless. He was never popular around people his own age, considering how different his interests were. While they would play with wooden swords and pretend to be the valiant knights of this very church, Byleth was learning how to survive in the wilderness; make fire, hunt, lay traps. Not a thing normal ten-year-olds did, but Byleth would be the first to tell you he wasn’t normal.

He would also be the first to tell you that these kids were only interested in recruiting him to their respective countries because of his skill and prowess, not because of his sparkling personality. Then again, fighting was all he was, so maybe he should be flattered.

Eventually, the far off walls became the nearby walls as they had finally reached the gates of the fabled monastery. The gates rose and they walked in, Byleth stepping in for the very first time, his father stepping in for the first time in who knows how many. He would ask him later.

As they walked in, the students turned to face them.

“Our apologies, but we must reconvene with our houses on what happened,” Dimitri said, bowing. “If you’ll excuse us.” 

“Indeed, thank you once again,” Edelgard said, placing a fist on her chest.

“Yup, see you dudes later.” Claude gave a wink and two-fingered salute.

The three house leaders of the Officers Academy walked off, interestingly enough, all in the same direction. Byleth turned his head back to the other newly met people of the day/s and saw that Alois’s aides had skedaddled. Alois was smiling directly at him.

“Well, my boy, what do you think? Isn’t she grand?” Alois asked with a booming voice and an equally wide grin. Byleth ran his hand down his face.

“It certainly is.” 

Technically not a lie, but he couldn’t shake this uncomfortable feeling that he had been in here before.

“Oh ho ho! I see your boy has some fine taste!” Alois smacked his father on the back. Jeralt gave a bored glare to his former subordinate, then turned to look at his son. Byleth just closed his eyes and shook his head.

They both couldn’t stand him. At least he wasn’t a bad guy. Just a loud one.

“In any case, you should talk to Lady Rhea, old friend. I trust you remember where she is?” Alois asked, still grinning. Jeralt groaned.

“How could I forget?” He mumbled into his hand as he wiped his mouth. “I’ll catch up you with some more later, Alois. We have an audience with the archbishop.” 

Alois laughed so hard that even the gatekeepers and roaming students were starting to give them weird looks. Then they just smirked or smiled and carried on their business. Looks like this was a common thing around here. He just gave Jeralt another slap on the back and went off straight ahead into a building that Byleth assumed was the mess hall, judging from clinking he heard in there. Byleth looked toward his father with an unimpressed look. 

“Was he always…” Byleth started to ask, but he didn’t think he needed to finish. His father sighed.

“That loud?” He gave a single chuckle. “Yeah, yeah he was.” He paused as his face grew darker. “Come on, we need to meet with Rhea.”

They began to walk, Jeralt led the way like he had done it all of his life. Maybe he truly did, once upon a time. They gathered stares from students, guards, and faculty alike. He saw a mature woman with fur on her outfit and a girl with a hat wink at him, He saw a girl with messy, purple hair retreat into her room as fast as she could, he saw a boy with a blue ponytail give him a curt nod. Hells, he even saw Claude standing next to a girl with pink twin-tails give him another salute, the girl gave him a sly wave.

“Hey, how far is it?” Byleth asked his father.

“We’re not even half-way.” Jeralt gave him a cursory glance. “It’s not like you to get impatient.” Byleth shook his head.

“It’s not that. This place has some… characters.”

He heard his father chuckle.

“And you and I would be at the top of that list, I assure you.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

The two resumed their walk until they entered a subsection of the monastery: an inner courtyard with glass cut off by more beige stone walls. The doors ahead of them lead into what Byleth assumed was a church, judged by the stained windows he saw above them.

Speaking of above them, he glanced at his father, who was staring upwards with the blankest face he’s seen since he asked him if he had a crest.

“Rhea’s here…” He whispered to himself.

Following his gaze, Byleth looked up himself and saw her. She was staring at them from the terrace that extended itself from the rest of the building in front of them. A woman with green hair and eyes and incredibly pale. An ornate golden headdress with jewels and blue tassels hanging from it.

Gee, where had he seen such a thing before?

“She looks… familiar.” He heard Sothis comment.

_Maybe because she looks like an older version of you?_

“Make like a boulder and be quiet, if you would be so kind?” She sputtered back at him before going back to the depths of his mind.

It was too far away to see anything else about her, so he pushed that away from his mind as he heard his father sigh. Byleth tried to smile, but it probably came out like he was pursing his lips. Close enough.

“Come on, let’s get this over with.” He patted his father on the shoulder.

“Yeah…” He mumbled. He really wasn’t looking forward to this, huh?

They stepped inside the definitely-a-church and led upstairs by a group of knights. Jeralt and Byleth stood inside an empty room meant to be a throne room, judging from the solitary chair that sat in the back of the room in front of a stained glass window and up a small set of stairs. The room’s floor was stained in varying colors and patterns of tiles, with pillars running up the walls and along with the flow of the room. If it was her attention to make this place look grand, she certainly succeeded. 

It just made the pit in his stomach twist harder.

Jeralt stared at the throne directly ahead of him with a blank look, his eyes glassing over as they likely recounted memories long since forgotten.

“It’s been years since I’ve even looked at this place.” He commented to himself.

“How many?” Byleth asked. Jeralt pursed his lips.

“Decades…” He mumbled. “If I never saw Rhea again, then it would be too soon.”

“Rhea?” Byleth was just trying to wrap his head around the situation while he had the chance. If past experience was any lesson, it would any time that Jeralt talked to an old friend, it was about something that he had no idea what the hell was going on.

“The woman in the courtyard. The archbishop. Lady Rhea. The leader of this church.”

And as though the woman herself were listening, the doors behind them creaked open and the woman herself entered the room. She was flanked by another man with green hair and eyes, albeit darker, with a chin strap beard and a matching set of clothes with Rhea’s. A navy blue with gold embroidery, flanked by whites, and a matching cape that was gold on the inside. Rhea wore a white dress with a blue glowing blouse with gold, and a cape matching the others.

They walked around them so that their backs were facing the throne behind them. 

“Thank you two for your patience. My name is Seteth, I serve as an adviser to the archbishop.” The man introduced himself with a small bow.

“Jeralt. Though I think you already know that.”

“It has been a long time Jeralt. I thank the Goddess that we were able to meet again.” Rhea said to Jeralt, but Byleth saw her eyes flicker between them after she said his father’s name. Jeralt gave a small bow.

“Forgive my silence. Much has happened.” 

Rhea chuckled. It was as smooth as velvet.

“So I see. I also see the miracle of fatherhood has blessed you.”

Jeralt stepped in.

“He was born years after I left, I wish I could introduce you to his mother, but I’m afraid she is no longer with us.”

Rhea frowned.

“I see, and you have my condolences. I’ve heard of your efforts from Alois. I must thank you again for your efforts with the students.”

Byleth gave a small bow as he felt the eyes in the room turned to him.

“It was nothing,” He said, shaking his head. “My name is Byleth.”

…

_Did you see that, Sothis?_

“Indeed. The twitch of her eye would’ve gone unnoticed by most.” Sothis said.

_Good thing I’m not most._

The twitch of her eye went as soon as it came and was replaced by a serene smile.

“A fine name indeed.”

Jeralt stopped looking at him and closed his eyes, a soft hum escaping his throat. The rest of his body was tense, the only moving was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Rhea’s smile lessened as she gestured toward him.

“You already know what I wish to say.” She commented.

“You wish for me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros.” He answered.

“I had expected that Alois would have this of you already.”

Her eyes turned to Byleth. Her stare felt like it was going deep into the very core of his soul, like he was something that she’s longed for.

“And you Byleth, I have a request for you as well.”

Byleth raised a brow and crossed his arms. He could see Seteth’s eyes narrow out of his peripheral.

“I would like for you to be a professor for our Officers Academy.”

Byleth blinked.

Byleth blinked again.

Byleth blinked again.

…

…

“What?” Was all he could say.

“We happen to be short a professor and we believe that you could effectively prepare our future leaders,” Rhea explained, the smile on her face getting warmer.

Byleth wasn’t having it.

He shook his head.

“No.”

…

The room fell into a deathly quiet. It might as well be a funeral with the silence in this room, it might even kill a man.

Seteth was beside himself, spouting out something about ‘how dare you say no to the archbishop!’ or something or other. Byleth just drowned him out, he seemed like the guy to complain a lot.

His father was just staring at him, wide-eyed. He had rarely told his father ‘no’, and if he did it was because he felt as though he couldn’t do it, or that he wasn’t interested. In this case, it was both. His father knew it, too.

Rhea, shockingly given the reactions of the bystanders, looked nonplussed. Her expression hadn’t changed, neither did she have the slip from earlier when her eyes twitched. 

The room was simply quiet as Byleth and Rhea stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Rhea, if I may offer a suggestion?”

All eyes turned to Jeralt as he was the first one who dared break the silence. Rhea’s expression had still not moved from her smile.

“What if I were to become the professor?”

…

Byleth chortled.

Ignoring his son, Jeralt continued.

“Byleth doesn’t know much about teaching material, other than battle. Am I right in assuming that some Knights still provide lectures on a part-time thing?”

“Indeed they do,” Rhea said.

“Then I’ll provide their teachings, while Byleth can provide instructions on fighting or tactics. I may be better with a spear, but he’s more skilled with basically everything else. Including magic. Is that to your liking?”

Rhea’s gaze turned toward Byleth, the smile still serenely sitting there.

“Yes. Instead, I will offer you, Byleth, the position that I would’ve given to Jeralt.”

“I would offer you to be the Captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

…

Byleth… wasn’t too opposed to that, if he was being honest.

“What would you have me do?” He asked.

Jeralt answered for her.

“Not much different than what we’ve been doing. The only difference is the amount of ground to cover, but you’d have a lot more men to cover that.” 

Byleth scratched his chin as he went over it in his head. If the only choices he had were to be a professor or be the Captain of a group of knights, he already knew what he wanted to do. 

And if the only teaching he had to do was combat, then he was perfectly content with that.

“Okay.”

Rhea’s smile moved for the first time in a while as it grew brighter. It threatened to make her glow like Sothis in his dreams.

“I thank you, both of you. I would ask that you two rest for today after your long trek. Tomorrow, we will discuss more of your roles. Until then.” She said. Then she and Seteth left the room, leaving Byleth and his father alone in the throne room.

Jeralt breathed through his nose.

“I’m sorry I got you dragged into this. This is turning out to be a real mess.”

“So it is.” Byleth said.

“At the least, it’s not that much different for you than what we’ve been doing. You have the reins full-time now, kid. Use them well.” He slapped his son on the shoulder and gave him a smile. 

“Please, this is nothing.” Byleth shrugged him off.

“I agree. It sounds like you’ll be taking over the combat courses for all three houses. Thankfully the knights aren’t needed all that often, so you’ll have more free time than you did while we were moving around.”

“Fine by me,” Byleth looked around. “Sounds like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”

For the second time of the hour, as if one cue, two more people walked in and interrupted them. This time, they were people that didn’t make Byleth’s stomach sink.

A man and a woman. It was the woman earlier who winked at them, for one. She wore a fur coat that held sleeves and wore a dress that did not leave much to the imagination. The man was an older gentleman with a grey coat, scarf, and a monocle, with grey hair that matched his coat and a big, well-cared for mustache. The woman looked right at Jeralt.

“You must be the new professor! My, how stern and handsome you are.” The woman purred at Jeralt. 

Jeralt put a hand in his face. Byleth patted his father on his shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to go walk around.”

Byleth turned to leave.

“Kid.”

He stopped at the sound of his father’s voice.

“Watch out for Rhea.” His voice dropped to a whisper that only they could hear. “I don’t know what she’s planning, anchoring us like this, but it doesn’t sit right with me. Be on guard.”

Byleth nodded and walked off, leaving his father alone with his new colleagues.

* * *

Byleth left the throne room and ran into a spacious hallway, where he saw two familiar faces, Alois and Seteth. Alois noticed him and entering and ushered him over. Ever the life of the party, this one.

“I hear that you were appointed to be Captain! I look forward to working with you!” Alois seemed not at all too annoyed that Byleth had skipped Goddess knows how many ranks, but he seemed almost happy. 

“Word travels fast here, I take it.” Byleth commented.

“I was just telling Alois here about it. I trust that you will do everything you can to thrive.” Seteth said, the narrowing of his eyes betraying his kind words.

Byleth nodded at Seteth and took his leave. He didn’t want to test how much patience Seteth had, seeing as how his very presence made Seteth’s expression turn sour.

He made his way down the stairs and came back to where he entered before. He noticed that it was less a church and more just a main hall. Tables lined the walls, students sitting at them, and going about their studently lives. That had to do with a lot of gossip from what he could hear but, that is how it goes. Halfway down the room, he noticed a familiar girl with white hair sitting at a table alone with a book in her hand. He walked over to her, with her not noticing him approaching.

“Loud place to do some reading.” He commented. 

She jumped a little bit, controlling herself and closing her eyes, muttering something to her under her breath. If he had to guess, it was her cursing him for scaring her. She placed her book down on the table and closed it. She turned her head to face him with a polite smile.

“Byleth. It is good to see you again so soon. I trust your meeting with Rhea went well?” The question made Byleth droop his shoulders and sigh.

“In a manner of speaking. It looks like my father and I are stuck here.” She raised an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“He is to become a professor at your academy. I am to be the Captain of knights while also being a part-time instructor at your school for combat courses.” 

Edelgard brightened a little at his words.

“I heard that the captain had stepped down to age. Nevertheless, I look forward to learning under you. Jeritza isn’t the most… accommodating instructor.”

“Jeritza?” Byleth raised an eyebrow.

“He’s the supervisor of the training grounds here. He is also the fencing instructor here, but he’s not the easiest person to learn from. Or the best.” 

Byleth felt a slight tug on his lips. He shook his head.

“I hope I can make your lofty expectations, Edelgard. You sound like you don’t settle.” Edelgard chuckled.

“I try not to.” Her eyes shot to the empty seat in front of her before going back to him. Her smile grew a little. “If you’re free, you’re welcome to sit with me. I would love to chat with you.”

Byleth resisted the urge to shake his head. He tried his best to smile. It didn’t come out.

“I’d love to, but I’m trying to look around here while I’m free, try and get familiar. I’ll take you up on that offer another time.”

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained it quickly. She nodded.

“Then I wish you luck, sir.” 

Byleth frowned.

“None of that. It’s Byleth.”

Her smile came back.

“Of course, Byleth.”

* * *

Byleth sat in his new room at Garreg Mach. It was a room in the faculty dormitory, the normal room that a captain had was inside the monastery, reportedly, but Byleth would rather be here. The training grounds was barely a walk after walking out the door; and so Jeralt would be taking the room meant for him. The only downside is that he would have a longer walk to his office that he apparently had, but he didn’t really mind.

Now after a full day of running around the monastery and meeting who he had to meet, he recorded them in his notebook that he kept on his person at all times. He did this very commonly, writing down specifics about people, things that would be useful to know later on, people or otherwise. 

He sat on his desk with the book open, turning pages until he found his way to what he wanted to review.

The Black Eagles, starting with their leader: Edelgard.

Observant. Analytical. Scrutinizing. None of them were wrong, yet none of them were right either. She wasn’t an observer if her rushing the bandit leader yesterday, rather today, said anything about her. She also looks as though she keeps her cards close to her chest, afraid to let anyone in. Whatever reason that may be, he didn’t know enough to have an answer.

Her aide, Hubert, heir of the Vestra land. Deeply loyal to Edelgard, to the point of obsession possibly. He would die for her if it meant that she would live. He deeply thanked him when they spoke earlier, bequeathing Blyeth with the deepest bow he had ever seen. Other than that, he reminded Byleth of himself. Cold, calculating, wherever he goes after graduating, he will be a force to be reckoned with.

Ferdinand Von Aegir, part of the family that makes up Adrestia’s prime ministers. He has this rivalry with Edelgard that’s less a rivalry and more a way for Ferdinand to feel as though he is making progress. Or maybe there’s something else there.

Linhardt. He said two words when they spoke earlier: ‘Linhardt. Goodbye.’ Apparently, he enjoys sleeping and not putting effort in most places. There’s something probably that he enjoys doing, but he just has to find it.

Caspar, second son of Bergliez. Crestless and no inheritance made the boy headstrong and a little bit of a muscle-head despite his smaller stature but possesses an eagerness to learn and an unrivaled work ethic. 

Bernadetta, the purple-haired girl who ran off when he saw him earlier. She’s a frightful thing and a recluse, probably due to some past trauma. That’s how it usually is, anyhow. Byleth is sure she’ll warm up with exposure.

Dorothea, the girl in the hat from earlier, the only commoner in the Black Eagles. Shameless flirt, from his earlier conversation suggested, but also apparently a talented singer and magic-user. She seems kind.

Petra. A foreign princess of a band of islands called Brigid, a vassal to the empire according to Edelgard. Has difficulty speaking Fodlan’s language fluently, but can write it perfectly. A skilled hunter reportedly, and very studious.

Byleth turned the page. The Blue Lions.

Dimitri’s impression still stood strong, the darkness and anger that he radiated still showed and Byleth was surprised he didn’t feel it when Dimitri fought the bandits. Perhaps it was that the bandits were so unrefined that he didn’t feel the need to try. Byleth thought he would see it soon enough. Other than that, Dimitri still radiated the feelings of a kind and polite young man. He had the making of a benevolent ruler if Byleth had ever seen one.

His aid, Dedue of Duscur. He and Hubert mirror each other in one thing: their unwavering loyalty towards their lord. Their personalities couldn’t be more different; while Hubert was filled with cunning, Dedue was the definition of chivalrous. He matched his lord’s personality quite well, too. 

Felix, heir to the Fraldarius’ lands. Blunt, but someone that Byleth struck as someone who values skill and progress. If Felix was anything like himself, he assumed that Felix would be the first person to ask Byleth for a spar. Out of the whole group of kids he met today, Felix was most likely the best in combat.

Ashe, adoptive son of Lonato of Gaspard. Born a commoner, he owes Lonato his life according to Dimitri. A bright boy, and one who wears his heart on his sleeve.

Sylvain, heir to Gautier. A loyal person to his friends, from Dimitri’s words, but most of his focus goes on women and trying to get under their skirts. To each their own, Byleth supposed.

Mercedes, apparently an Imperial noble but was adopted by a merchant within the kingdom. Also a year older than himself, which he found entertaining. Someone who values helping the lives of others rather than helping herself; commendable, but harmful nonetheless.

Annette, a baron by the name of Dominic’s niece. Studied at the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad along with a couple others in this year’s class. Cheerful, sometimes overtly so, and incredibly hardworking. Also reportedly not the brightest, or a ditz, but means well enough.

Ingrid, daughter of Count Galatea. Grounded in principle, diligence, and the power of tradition herself. So focused on her own goal that she may one of the greatest cases of tunnel vision Byleth had ever seen. Why ever that is, Byleth would have to figure out this year.

Byleth turned the page. The Golden Deer.

Claude, when he asked Claude about himself, the boy laughed and said ‘let’s spend the year getting to learn each other, little by little’. Claude at least keeps his cards pinned against his chest instead of just closed, that Byleth knows. He pegged Byleth as a schemer, similar to Edelgard yet completely different as well.

Lorenz, heir of Gloucester. He would be Sylvain if he was a thousand times more arrogant and thought that his noble name made him the catch of the century. Claude said that he’s devoted and honest, but Byleth felt that as a cover to make him out to be less of an asshole.

Raphael, an orphan from a merchant family. Despite his hardships, he’s the most cheerful guy Byleth has ever met, probably the biggest one, too. His interests include training, eating, and then doing the same thing over and over again. They would get along famously. 

Ignatz, second son of merchants and training to become a knight seeing as his brother will inherit the business. Claude pegged him as reluctant to do so, probably because he felt forced that his life has no other choice. A kind boy nonetheless, from how he spoke to Byleth.

Lysithea, daughter of Count Ordelia. The tiniest and youngest student in the whole school at fifteen years old. Up there with Caspar in terms of work ethic and motivation to literally absorb knowledge. Also gets upset if you treat her as a child according to her house leader. 

Marianne, daughter of Margrave Edmund. That’s all he learned from Claude, but speaking with her directly, she seemed… sad, for lack of a better word. Depressed, pessimist, the whole works. Byleth felt for her and kind of wanted to know more. No one should live like that, even the Ashen Demon knew that.

Hilda, daughter of Duke Goneril. Spoiled, peppy, and the girliest girl Byleth has ever met. Probably more accustomed to asking others to do her work than to even try it for herself, but that’s a noble for you. Always delegating.

Leonie, ugh, she rubbed him the wrong way. She said that maybe his father had ‘mentioned her’ and that made him uneasy. Other than that, she’s blunt and stingy. Not too unusual for aspiring and even current mercenaries, being that’s exactly what she is.

He turned the page. The faculty so far aside from Rhea, Seteth, and Alois. The two latter seemed upfront on what their personalities were. Rhea’s motives and reactions to him were both mysteries and concerns, so his opinion would have to wait. Her first impression didn’t fill in a lot of blanks.

Jeritza, overseer of the training grounds and fencing instructor. Quiet, antisocial, keeps to himself. Good thing or bad thing depending on who you ask, and since Byleth is being asked, it was a good thing until proven otherwise.

The Gatekeeper. He was overjoyed to meet his new captain and seemed good at his job. They would get along.

Hanneman, the man in the gray coat from earlier. Researcher first, academy professor second, specializes in Crests. Wants to see if Byleth had one, to which he accepted as he was curious as well.

Manuela, the woman with no shame from earlier. Also another professor and a former songstress from the same opera house as Dorothea. Also tried to have relations with Byleth the moment he walked into her office, but his skill of acting aloof turned that off right away. Thank the Goddess.

Byleth closed his notebook with a sigh, that was the last of them, and damn if it wasn’t an exhausting bunch to be around. Byleth wasn’t the best at fraternizing, but if there was any practice to be had, it was with people his own age; there were a lot of them here. The funny part was that there were three more ‘important’ knights that he had yet to meet, and would within the week. The funny part is that they were all offered his position, but all of them declined, saying some version of ‘I’m a soldier, not a leader’. 

_Neither am I, yet here I am._

He rubbed his eyebrows.

Damn Rhea.

He stood up from his new desk and moved over to start changing for the night. Being a knight wasn’t a thing that he was expecting when he woke up yesterday, but he wouldn’t complain if he didn’t have to change that much. His first and foremost thought was protecting those that couldn’t protect themselves, that was what his father raised him to believe, and as he grew he stayed true to those teachings. He wasn’t interested in holy wars and crusades, but as long as it never came to that, he would have no argument for his new position.

Armor and jacket off and nightclothes on, Byleth flopped onto his bed like a landed fish onto his back and stared at his ceiling that was bathed in moonlight. He did this a lot, looking at nothing in particular while he reflected on the day, what he learned, and what he lost and gained. He decided that today’s turn of events was something that wasn’t so simple. Maybe in a year, he’d have to the answers to that.

“My my, your days are surely changing quickly.” Sothis observed from his head.

_What made you say that?_

“Really? Are you so dense that you-,” She paused. “Is that sarcasm I hear from you?”

_You sound surprised._

“I didn’t think you were one to joke about.” 

_You know, despite my emotions being nonexistent, that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a sense of humor._

“Hmph. So you say. That is refreshing, I was worried I would truly be spending my time with a boulder of a person.” She huffed.

_Again, what does that even mean?_

“Hah!” She huffed louder and with a laugh mixed in. “That is what it means, oaf.”

Byleth’s eyelids fell, and not because of sleep.

_I see this conversation is going nowhere. Goodnight, Sothis._

“Goodnight, boulder.” 

With a final groan, Byleth shut his eyes and let sleep cover him.

His dreams were empty that night.

* * *

“Hanneman.” 

Byleth entered Professor Hanneman’s office two days after his first day at the Monastery. He was fulfilling his promise he made to him after they had first conversed that he would drop by for some of the researcher’s Crest knowledge, and to see if he had one himself. Hanneman’s office was certainly one of a researcher: messy, unkempt papers stacked on his desk, corners of such spilling out from drawers, and three whole walls covered in bookshelf's packed to the brim. The fourth wasn’t covered because it held a window, and even the crazed researcher needs light to read the books within the room. 

“Ah! Captain Byleth! Good to see you, how is your new position suiting you?” Hanneman asked, his face brightening at the newcomer. Byleth shrugged.

“Well enough. You can save the ‘captain’ part, I imagine we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Byleth said.

“Oh? Could you have a passion for Crests as well?” Hanneman’s enthusiasm was under no filter as it spewed and reverberated across the room.

“I suppose you could call it that. I recently learned about them, and I’m interested.” 

Hanneman’s features were brightening the more the captain spoke.

“In what ways might that be?”

“Why they’re considered so valuable.” 

The professor was the sun, at this point.

“Where do I start?” He asked with excitement. “The power that they give is-.” 

Byleth shook his head and raised his hand, signaling the professor to stop.

“Not that, I know that. I meant in social circles, like why are nobles only considered ‘truly’ noble if they have one.”

The sun dimmed to a small star, as Hanneman’s face lessened to that of a small but genuine smile. Byleth heard Sothis hum in his head.

“That is a difficult question to answer.” He admitted. Byleth shrugged.

“Take your time, I’ve got plenty of it.”

Hanneman paused and looked at Byleth for a moment, his smile still there.

“I assume you are also here for the crest detection I offered.” Byleth nodded. “Then may you stand on that circle in front of you, I will answer that while I prepare.”

Byleth stepped forward as Hanneman bent over to ruffle in his desk for something, coming back up from the lower drawers and placing a few books and journals on the desk and running through them in a well-practiced manner. His smile vanished as his face hardened.

“Bloodlines mean a lot to Fodlan, and crests are proof of that. They are proof of the prestige that your blood may have, that your ancestors were incredible beings of legend, that what they did may somehow prove that one day you may as well. It is so intense that noble houses sometimes adopt commoners with one just to legitimize their nobility; like it is more than a simple symbol of the Goddess’s blessing upon you. It causes endless battles and strifes within families, to the point where elders with no crest kill younger siblings that do have one.” He shook his head, closing the books and walking toward Byleth.

“You speak like you have experience.” Byleth tried to not sound inconsiderate, but not controlling your emotions meant that was difficult. 

If it came out like that, Hanneman didn’t care. His mouth tugged upwards ever so slightly.

“I suppose I do.” He paused as he looked at Byleth. “If you would hold your hand out palm first.”

Byleth did as he asked.

Hanneman began mumbling the incantations of a spell. The words made the plate beneath glow in a magnificent lavender, bathing his whole body in the light, physics be damned. The light traveled through his body as it traveled up to his outreached hand and spinning within his palm. Hanneman spoke one final phrase in whatever language that it was, and he felt the light leave through his palm. Above his hand, he saw a pattern in the air, a pattern of lines and loops surrounded a circle of runes that he could not decipher. He glanced at Hanneman who, for lack of a better word, was dumbfounded at what he was looking at.

“What in the… Hold that position, friend, I must sketch this!” He ran to his desk and grabbed whatever book was closest and opened to the front cover, sketching the pattern on the cover page of the poor book.

In these moments of passion, Byleth decided it would be better to stay silent as Hanneman drew the Crest. Byleth’s stare went toward the symbol floating above his head. 

He had a Crest? He had one that made such a devout researcher like Hanneman lose his grip and draw it? He was special?

Part of him felt good about not just being a weird loner, but a bigger part of it hoped that it could’ve gone to a more deserving person.

“Believe me Byleth. There is none more deserving than you.” Sothis whispered.

…

_…thank you, Sothis._

She went back to being quiet as Hanneman’s nose came back for air out of the depths of the textbook he was doodling in.

“Byleth I do not joke when I say, I have never seen that crest before.”

Byleth tilted his head.

“You… haven’t?”

Hanneman shook his head with so much vigor it threatened to fly off.

“I haven’t. At a glance, it looks to be an amalgamation of several crests. There are hints of Cetheleann, Lamine, Dominic, Daphnel, even Seiros itself…” The more he said, the more his voice trailed into a mumble of thought.

Byleth realized his hand was still raised, and taking the now constant mumble of Hanneman and his long finished sketch into account, he lowered his hand and the projection of his Crest vanished like waving a hand through smoke.

“Hanneman.” Byleth said. The professor looked startled as he spoke as if he forgot he was there.

“Oh! Forgive me, Captain.” 

Byleth sighed and passed over the title.

“I assume that you will look into this? If you find anything, please tell me whatever you learn. If I find I have any… new abilities that I failed to notice, then I will let you know.”

The sun came back to the room.

“Yes, yes! Of course! Whatever you can tell me, I will use it well. You have my word.”

Byleth nodded.

“I will leave you to it, then. Farewell, Hanneman.”

Hanneman gave no goodbye as he buried himself in papers and books. The energy and passion gave even the Ashen Demon a small smirk as he left the room.

* * *

“Thank you, professor!”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

Byleth heard the chatter of conversation as he entered the room of his father’s new classroom, which he found an incredibly amusing thought. His father had been appointed the Blue Lions, most likely because of his origins of living in Faerghus. From what Jeralt told him, Hanneman had the Golden Deer because that class had the ‘most interesting and least understood Crests’, which sounded exactly like something he would say, while Manuela took the Black Eagles on account of hailing from the empire. 

The children of this class were leaving, most of them anyhow, as he was standing by the door for the way to clear. He was greeted with things such as exuberant ‘hellos!’ from Annette and Mercedes to the respectful nods of Felix. He returned each of them with nods of his own. As the way cleared, he walked into the classroom himself. Each classroom for each house was near identical compared to each other, the only major difference being the different colored banners that hung within them. He saw Dimitri and Dedue speaking to his father as he walked down, his father ushering him with a hand and a smile to match. Dimitri turned around and gave a salute.

“It is good to see you again, Captain. I trust your new duties aren’t eating at you.” He said. Byleth sighed.

“Not as much as people calling me ‘Captain’. Byleth is good, Dimitri, unless you want me to call you ‘your majesty’.”

The best part about being emotionless is that it was very hard for people to tell if he was joking, being serious, or being sarcastic. If Dimitri’s widened eyes were any indication, he took it as the second on that list.

“Anything but that.” He said, then laughed. “Very well, Byleth, you win.” 

Byleth nodded.

“And how was your first day of class with him?” He nudged his head toward his father. “I hope he didn’t bore you to death with tales of his own glory.” Dimitri shook his head.

“Nothing of the sort. In fact, we’ve been informed of a mock battle that will be happening at the end of the month between the three houses.”

Byleth nodded. He had, in fact, been told about that after getting inspected by Hanneman. It made him uneasy, why were the houses being compared like this and not held closer together for better cooperation in the future? It was a strange idea, but friendly competition couldn’t hurt that much he supposed. He should give the academy the benefit of the doubt.

“I have been, too. I am to watch it with Rhea. I was also informed that the professors are to participate as well?” He asked, turning towards Jeralt, who shrugged.

“That’s right, it’s strange, but if it’s what I have to do then it’s what I have to do.”

“Well, if you have the _Blade Breaker_ around then it should be no problem.” Byleth’s eyes shot to the side.

“…they will not notice it, but you sounded full with venom when you spoke those words.” Sothis said.

_…so I did._

True to her words, the other three seemed to not pick up on it. In fact, they looked positively entertained. Even Dedue was smiling.

“Please, you give me too much credit. I was never as good as crowds as you are. Remember that siege you commanded with the army of five hundred? If I was leading we would’ve lost half that, but not a single man died under your command.”

Dimitri looked at Byleth with stars in his eyes. Dedue looked impressed. Byleth looked the opposite. He sighed.

“You’re exaggerating. A lot.”

“Not about the lives part. I could never have done that.” Byleth sighed again.

“Okay, maybe you have a point. Though the other two professors’ strengths are not combat, like yours is. By my estimate, your house has the best trained-fighters as well. This should be a cakewalk.”

Dimitri rubbed the back of his neck. His smile betrayed his feelings. Jeralt laughed at his son’s words.

“Maybe you’re right! We’ll see at the end of the month.”

Byleth shrugged.

“Anyway, I dropped by to see about scheduling my lessons into your schedule,” He gestured toward the students. “But if you’re busy, there’s no rush.”

Dimitri shook his head fervently.

“No need. We were discussing the mock battle, but that is a ways away. I will leave you to it.” Dimitri and Dedue offered their salute, Byleth and Jeralt returning it was a nod, and the students left the classroom.

…

The silence between father and son was deafening. 

“You sounded… upset, for a moment.” Jeralt said roughly.

“So he did notice…” Sothis commented.

Byleth glanced at his father and fixed his gaze on the floor. He pursed his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the monastery before we came here?” Byleth asked, his voice equally as rough. Jeralt scratched his chin.

“It was a life I wanted to run from. There are a lot of good memories here, but even more bad ones. Ones that I’d like to forget.”

Byleth sat on that for a moment, the pit in his stomach coming back. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

One. 

Two.

Three. 

Four.

Five.

Exhale.

“Okay.”

Jeralt’s face scrunched up.

“Okay?”

“Okay, but one day, I’d like for you to tell me about it.” 

Jeralt stared for a moment, but a small smile overcame his lips as he clasped his son’s shoulder.

“You got it.” 

The pit vanished and turned into a warmness that filled Byleth’s still heart.

Jeralt saw the small smirk on his son’s face as his smile turned into a grin. It stayed as such for a few moments, then lessened as he remembered why his son came here in the first place.

“Now, what’s this about scheduling?”

* * *

“Here, Captain, are the remaining Holy Knights of the Knights of Seiros.”

Byleth learned over the past few days of the distinguishing ranks within the Knights of Seiros. There were squires, which served knights of any rank to learn under as they trained and studied to become knights themselves. The only one he had met so far was a boy of darker complexion by the name of Cyril. His skin tone and accent made him an easy pick as Almyran, a nation to the east of the Leicester alliance. He was very rude and abrupt when they first met, but easily warmed up and apologized profusely when he learned of Byleth’s new profession. He didn’t mind, if it was in the pursuit of knowledge and doing what you enjoyed, he didn’t mind the attitude.

Above them were the regular knights That composed the bulk of the ranks of the Knights of Seiros. Byleth surmised that there were around five thousand knights under his command. The number made him pale a bit, but the number problem he and his father frequently came across under in their work as a mercenary would be fixed with this many men and women made him more eager. Alois was technically a part of this group but his many deeds within the organization made him rise above even the Holy Knights in terms of influence and prestige.

The Holy Knights themselves were a group that consisted of three individuals. They were a group of the church’s best knights, originally named for being able to wield the Hero’s relics, they have since lessened their requirements to just being really good at their job. 

This led to Byleth led by Seteth to meet the best the order had to offer. The throne room of Garreg Mach was filled with three unknown individuals.

The first was a tall and burly man with a head of orange hair and a long ponytail. He wore the heavy plate of a knight with an orange scarf.

The second was a woman with navy blue hair and piercing violet eyes. She was clad in a black jumpsuit with a teal jacket and an armor-plated shoulder. She wore a longbow over her shoulder with a gaze of an analytical mind.

The third was a tall tan woman with a look of pure fire in her eyes. She wore the cloak of a paladin with steel armor over it. She carried a sword, unlike any Byleth had ever seen. A sword that looked like it was made of bone, with ridges stick off of it in an alternating pattern on the side. ‘Thunderbrand’ it was called. 

The first bowed with a hand on his chest.

“My name is Gilbert. I have heard of what you’ve done for our students and otherwise.” He rose from his bow, his face in a stern expression. His normal look, Byleth supposed. “I look forward to working with you, captain.”

Byleth nodded. With the students, he was sure to not let them refer to him by his station. That respect didn’t matter if they weren’t working under him. Those that were under him, were another story.

“You as well, Gilbert.”

The second took that as her turn to introduce herself.

“Shamir. Pleasure.”

Short and to the point. He could work with that.

“Same, Shamir.”

Number three’s turn.

“I’m Catherine! Nice to meet you! Alois told me that you might be able to keep up with me.” She said.

This was the bubbly one, Byleth figured.

“I’m sure Alois exaggerated. Again. It is nice to meet you, Catherine.” Byleth shook his head. 

Seteth coughed to gain everyone’s attention.

“Now that introductions are out of the way, we should get to business.”

Byleth nodded.

“Very well, let’s regroup at my office.” He said. 

He walked out of the throne room, knights and Seteth on his heel as he led the way to the captain’s office. A few minutes later, they found themselves in Byleth’s office with the door closed and locked. Byleth grabbed a map of the continent and laid it out on the desk as business was in the air.

“There are three issues of major import to take care of.” Seteth pointed to the Gaspard territory on the border between the kingdom and the empire. “There are rumors of the western church mobilizing military forces in the lands of Gaspard. It would be wise to send an envoy of scouts to see what is happening, and a set of troops to stay on standby in the case that something endangers the general populace.” He moved his finger to the territory of Ochs in the empire. “The Baron Dominic is requesting a set of men to assist in a search for a missing person.” He said that part with a frown. “There is an uprising in the kingdom, the disowned son of the Gautier family has attacked his former parents’ territory. He has simply raided villages in the territory and has yet to do anything to feisty, but the Lord wants our support.”

Byleth stroked his chin as he followed Seteth’s finger and listened to his voice.

A rival church means nothing to him, but moving military forces along a border of two countries was an incredibly nerving situation. Best case, they were doing marches and training exercises. Worst case, the empire takes it as a sign of aggression, and full-on war begins. They have yet to do something, but a half dozen scouts and a party of fifty or so knights would be enough to monitor the situation and prevent any major tragedies from happening. Word would travel fast along the border, any reinforcements would come swiftly.

A missing person case was tricky. If it was a runaway, then they wouldn’t want to be found and a large group would deter things. If it was a kidnapping, the same thing, but too small a group would hurt things as well. Fodlan is a big place, there’s a lot of ground to cover. The good Baron didn’t inform them of how long the person was missing, so this would be hard.

…

Twenty men, and Shamir. If they couldn’t find anything, the trail would have gone cold and nothing could be done, sad as it is to say. Why Shamir? Well, in his experience, the quiet ones made excellent trackers. He would see if he was proven right with this mission. If he wasn’t then she was sure to object.

An uprising in a noble land by a disowned son wasn’t a delicate situation. Again, the nobles leave out a crucial piece of information: how many? How many attacks have taken place? How often? How long has it been happening? Too many men and they might scatter and wait them out, the rebels have home-field advantage. Anything above a hundred would do something like that, but who knows how many men there were and how well trained they were. Seventy should work, and should something happen, a bigger second wave would snuff it out in an instant.

Byleth pointed to the lands of Gaspard.

“A dozen scouts and an envoy of fifty knights. It should be enough to get information and deter anything. If anything happens, land on the border would travel to us quickly and reinforcements can come if necessary.”

Then to the land of Ochs.

“Twenty knights. If they can’t find anything then the trail is cold, and we won’t be able to do anything unless something happens.” He looked towards Shamir standing next to him. “How’s your tracking?”

“The best in the company.” She said. 

Company? Not a word you associated with knights. Maybe she was a mercenary too.

“Accompany them. Report to me when you get back.”

“Understood.” She nodded back. He returned it.

And finally, to Gautier.

“Seventy knights. Anything bigger and we risk them running off and coming back after they returned. Any smaller and they might roll us under the carpet.” 

Seteth rose an eyebrow at the captain’s suggestion.

“Isn’t it still small?”

Byleth pursed his lips and nodded, closing his eyes.

“Yes, and I don’t like it either. It is what must be done. If I am right, then this will be done within the week. If I’m wrong, then the confidence they’ll have won’t falter in the retribution I’ll bring.” He opened his eyes and brought them toward Seteth. He returned his gaze and nodded once.

“Captain, I’d like to ask if I may accompany the group to the holdings of Gautier.”

Byleth looked toward Gilbert, a bit surprised at his request.

“Any reason?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I wish to keep busy.”

Fair enough.

“Then go, the forces will be under your command.”

“I thank you, sir.” He saluted with a hand to his chest.

Byleth looked at Catherine, who was almost buzzing with enthusiasm. It didn’t take much for him to guess what it was about. 

“Catherine you can lead the other operation.”

She grinned from ear to ear, eyes closed, and clapped in thanks.

“Thank you, Captain!”

He nodded. He addressed the group at large. 

“If you have knights in mind, gather them, and inform me. If not, I’ll summon them. You all leave in two days. Dismissed.”

The three Holy Knights gave the captain a salute and left. The only one left was Seteth, who was staring at him with a neutral look and a blank face. Byleth stared back.

“Something I can help you with, Seteth?”

Seteth didn’t respond immediately.

“Your tactics are different than the ones I would use. I’d prefer larger parties.”

“Not a bad strategy. I’d prefer to not have people be fearful of the knights by parading armies around.”

Seteth made a hum from his throat. Byleth took it as one of surprise. He knew Seteth didn’t think much of him, but maybe he was warming up.

“I will take my leave now, Captain.”

Seteth nodded at him and left without another word.

…

“… that was strange.” Sothis commented.

_Yes, it was._

“What do you think of him?” She asked.

_Overbearing, for lack of a better word. Rhea means a lot to him. It makes sense, his attitude toward me, I expected him to judge me._

His head was quiet.

_Sothis?_

“He seems… familiar.” 

_Familiar?_

“Yes…” She said, solemnly.

Byleth didn’t say anything else. That wasn’t something Sothis knew the answer to. He knew how much she hated not being able to remember anything. So he left her alone.

Knock knock.

Byleth’s eyes snapped to the door.

“Come in.”

“Pardon me.” A small voice, young and bright came from the other side. Then the door creaked open.

The one who opened it was a small girl, no taller than five feet, with big green hair and green eyes wearing a dress version of the church’s clothes: a puffy black dress with gold embroidery. 

What was it with this place with green hair and eyes?

“I recognize her too.” Sothis said.

He shook his head, focusing on the girl at the door.

“What can I help you with, miss?” He asked. The girl smiled.

“Are you the new Captain I’ve heard about?” Byleth nodded and her face brightened. “I am very pleased to meet you! My name is Flayn, Seteth’s little sister.”

Byleth’s face scrunched up ever so slightly. She giggled.

“Pardon me, but you seem much too happy to be Seteth’s sister.” Byleth said. She giggled again.

“You are not wrong! My brother is a grump.” She pouted a little. Then shook her head. “I heard from Rhea that he was with you?” 

Byleth shook his head.

“He just left, I believe he went toward the thro…” He coughed. “The audience chamber.”

Flayn seemed nonplussed.

“Okay! Thank you! If you’ll excuse me.” She bowed and closed the door on her way out.

…

_Anything new, Sothis?_

“… I’m afraid not.”

_Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out in time. We both will._

…

“Thank you, Byleth.”

* * *

Byleth stood on top of the cliff that oversaw the field that would serve as the grounds for the mock battles between the three houses. The Blue lions stood on the south side on the bottom of a small steep hill, with the two other houses on top of it: the Eagles to the east, and the Deer to the right. It made him wonder if it was on purpose that his father’s class was put at a significant disadvantage in terms of terrain, it would be a literal uphill battle for the Lions. By all means, it wouldn’t a bad strategy for the two uphill houses to take care of the Lions with minimal effort before turning on each other.

He doubted it crossed their minds.

On top of his hill, he stood with a gaggle of a group. He himself flanked Rhea herself at the top, who was watching the battle with a look of deathly curiosity in her eyes. She might have been the most eager one to see this battle, for what reason, Byleth couldn’t say. On the other side of the archbishop stood her adviser, Seteth, or so he called himself. The stern man had given his appointment to Captain with some apprehension when it first was announced, but after Byleth’s appointments, he looked less tense around the new Captain. On the other side of the Seteth stood Flayn, who Byleth was still shocked that she was his little sister of all things, but stranger things have happened; such as the very position that finds himself in work-wise, or the gremlin inside his head.

“I heard that.” The mentioned gremlin said.

_Good._

With a loud groan and a haughty ‘hmph’ she retreated back to the depths of his mind to sleep or whatever she did in there.

Byleth turned his eyes back to the battlefield, starting at where his father was stationed, he was not on a horse as no others on the battlefield were mounted users. That was also where he thrived, and if Rhea wanted to see what house was best and not who could kill thirty men on their own, this was the way to go. He was giving commands and forming groups, eschewing formations in favor of groups. In an undisciplined battle of undisciplined skirmishes with undisciplined participants, this would either go brilliantly or terribly. Jeralt, Dimitri, and Dedue stood at the very bottom of the hill, one step away from climbing it. He set Ingrid, Sylvain, and Felix to the far west towards the Golden Deer and the remaining group of Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe into the forest that was right between them. The ranged users would come literally out of the woodwork and make short work of a surprised and unprepared squad. It was a solid formation, which came as no surprise to Byleth as he knew how capable his father was with small groups such as this.

His eyes moved to the Golden Deer. It seemed Hanneman left most of the strategizing to the kids, himself sitting on a secluded and small structure at the top of the hill. He would be able to throw spells undeterred from there, but Byleth was pretty sure he just didn’t want to fight and it would be easiest from that position. Claude was doing most of the delegating from the looks of things, but it was an interesting strategy, to put it bluntly. He had Hilda, Raphael, Lorenz, and Leonie all lined up in a loose and scattered line along the edge of the hill toward the Lions and toward the other side of it where the Eagles were. The rest of the class were exclusively mages and bow users and were shoved inside of a forest next to where Hanneman was sitting. Their strategy looked like: draw them near with a weak-looking defensive, Hanneman slows them down, and then the rest pounce and take them by surprise, where the front line can finish off any that aren’t down already. Solid enough, but Byleth preferred to not run a plan that put so many eggs into one basket. Jeralt’s plan had room to adapt, this was all or nothing.

He looked to the Black Eagles. Manuela did something similar to Hanneman, leaving it to Edelgard to make a plan. Her plan wasn’t putting him off as much as Claude’s was. She structured themselves around each other, choosing to not defend a single point but rather defend themselves as a unit. Edelgard, Ferdinand, Caspar, and Petra stuck close together, maybe a yard between their shoulders as they stuck close to Manuela’s position; with Bernadetta, Dorothea, Linhardt, and Hubert forming a second line behind them, granted with a farther distance between them. This way, they could adapt to whichever side attacked the first. Judging by the Lions’ position, they were targeting Claude first. If they were smart, the Eagles would follow after Jeralt, Dimitri, and Dedue as they tried to pincer the Eagles. It would turn into a brawl at that point, but with how close the phalanx of the eagles was, they would have no trouble in defending their ranged users and winning the fight cleanly. Byleth wondered if it was Edelgard or Hubert who came up with that plan.

“Predictions, Captain?” Rhea asked.

Byleth glanced at her before returning to the battlefield.

“Personnel wise, I’d say the Blue Lions, but the Eagles formation is my favorite.”

“Oh? I would assume you would think higher of your father.” She asked.

“He’s placing a lot of trust in the different groups to do their jobs as a proper commander should; these are kids, however. They might not know how to do them.”

Rhea smiled her trademark serene smile, but pride leaked into her expression. It did not make her look more sinister, however.

“Edelgard’s formation is adaptable and defensive, even with minimal support, she should have an easy time.”

“You sound confident in them.” Seteth said. Byleth looked at him.

“I said ‘should’. With this lot, anything seems possible.”

“Indeed. We shall soon see. The mock battle of the three houses will now begin.”

She turned to nod at the horn bearer, who nodded back to her with a ‘yes, my lady’. He blew into the horn, marking the beginning of the mock battle.

As he thought, the only unit to move were the Lions. The high ground was too important, and the students knew to not relinquish it without proper reason. The Deer in the forward position readied their weapons, so did the whole of the Eagles. The group of the far left to the hill moved forward and up the hill, directly into Hilda and Raphael who were standing their ground. From this distance, Byleth couldn’t see individual strikes, but he could certainly see outcomes. The three Lions charged the two, attempting to use their superior numbers and skill to take them down quickly. 

Leonie and Lorenz abandoned their position to assist, even though the two actually fighting looked completely unbothered by their disadvantage. Perhaps it wasn’t ‘abandoning’, their placements being so scattered was maybe set up as a decoy to draw another into a fight that they’d be over-committed to. The Lions were being pushed back, but the lack of rearguard meant one thing: that they wouldn’t see approaching Jeralt and his merry band coming from the rear flank. 

And they didn’t.

To the Deer’s credit, they were standing their ground. They were weaving through each other and exclusively blocking blows. It was all they could do. 

The odd part was that Claude and the others weren’t doing anything. 

The Eagles didn’t seem to notice or care as they began a slow march forward to attack the rear end of the Lions, forcing them back to back with nowhere to attack. Manuela was moving up with them as well, joining the rear guard of the Eagles. 

They descended upon the Lions slowly and methodically, holding their metaphorical shield wall as they stood as a blockade to make the melee users unable to close distance on their backline without being cut down. 

That’s when finally, the Lion’s ranged support came in. Ashe and Annette were throwing spells and arrows into the Eagle’s ranged support, Mercedes was healing whoever needed healing, and they succeeded. At the cost of their cover in the forest, the Eagles blackline was taken out, dooming the frontline to a tougher battle. The Lion’s ranged support moved in closer and closer. 

Jeralt yelled something so loud that even Byleth heard it from the clifftop. 

“It seems the Lions will have victory this time.” Seteth said with a sigh.

“Indeed, it was a great strategy!” Flayn added. Rhea hummed as well.

“Don’t be so sure.” Byleth said.

Seteth looked at him, he was still watching the battle.

“What do you mean? They outnumber everyone?” Seteth asked him like Byleth said some of the dumbest shit he had ever heard in his life. Byleth looked at him.

“The rest of the Deer still haven’t joined.”

And then they did.

Nobody noticed Hanneman had snuck off from his cozy structure.

Jeralt was yelling when the backline joined the frontline. It was one massive cluster of red and blue because the yellow had moved off when the commotion hit. 

Anyone not wearing the colors of the Golden Deer had the outlines of Miasma and Swarm spells under their feet, Mercedes and Annette both fell by quick shots of arrows. 

And then, the magic fired. The burst of purple magic made the trees gust in the force that it expelled, the grass swayed in the breeze. A cloud of dirt and dust filled the air where they once were.

When it cleared, all that was left standing was the Golden Deer. 

Byleth could scarcely believe it. 

Claude, you absolute bastard.

Byleth couldn’t help but smirk after such a display. He had to know why he did what he did.

He looked to the bigger figures of the church as they reveled in the sight. Rhea looked most pleased, probably that the battle was an entertaining one. Seteth and Flayn were shocked, eyes widened and mouths agape. Byleth patted Seteth on the shoulder.

“Guess I was wrong.”

Byleth walked down to the beginning of the trail to where the practice field was held and leaned against a tree as he waited for the students to come by. He waited there for a little while.

And the first one to walk out was the one that he wanted to talk to. Claude walked with Lysithea and Hanneman.

“Captain, my Captain! How did you enjoy the show?” Claude asked upon seeing Byleth as he walked out of the woods and into the light of day. Byleth walked toward the three as they walked on the dirt path. Lysithea was buzzing with excitement and Hanneman looked generally pleased.

“I did. I admit, I wasn’t too sold on your plans. What made you think it would work?” He asked. Claude laughed.

“I knew one of the groups would get cocky and walk forward. Didn’t think it would the Blade Breaker’s, though. That was a surprise.” 

Byleth’s smirk came back.

“I’m impressed, Claude.” 

Claude waved a hand.

“Please, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without this munchkin.” He said while ruffling Lysithea’s hair. She smacked his arm, hard. He winced at it.

“Can you stop treating me like a child?” She sighed. “But thank you for the compliment.” Byleth looked at her, and then Hanneman.

“Which one of you fired that Swarm? It was the biggest spellcast I’ve ever seen.”

…

Hanneman’s smile and Lysithea twirling her hair with a hand were the only answers he needed. He stared at Lysithea.

“That was you?” He asked. She pouted and crossed her arms.

“It was, what of it?”

…

“That was the greatest spell I’d ever seen.”

She uncrossed her arms and straightened her hair.

“You must not see spells very often.” Byleth shrugged.

“Maybe. I’d still like to know more about it if you don’t mind me bending your ear while we go back.”

Lysithea coughed into her hand.

“Well… I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” She said, a smile coming on to her face.

“I never took you for a mortal savant, boulder.” Sothis said.

_I’m not. I know a little magic, but nothing crazy. I’d like to change that, if that pleases you._

“I’m the last one who’s approval you need. You already do.” Sothis said warmly.

Byleth’s lips stretched to a small smile at the goblin’s words.

Lysithea thought the smile was because of her, and a small blush started forming on her cheeks.

Claude chuckled and patted Byleth on the back. 

“I’ll leave you two alone. C’mon over here Teach, I wanted to review something with you. Hanneman spouted out something about whatever Claude wanted to talk about, but jogged to catch up regardless.

Byleth watched the two with a slightly scrunched face. He looked back at Lysithea with an unscrunched face and looked at her slightly flushed face, not even noticing it.

“So, about getting the radius that big…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else find it weird that literally everyone at Garreg Mach is an instructor? Just me? gotcha.
> 
> with that little tidbit from the game it means that it's kind of hard to get away from Byleth doing any teaching, but this falls more within this version of Byleth, so I figure it's okay if it's just a little at a time. it's also an excuse for Byleth to get to know the students more, of which I have many a scene planned.
> 
> I'm sure you've noticed it by now, but there's a theme of breaking down the walls between the houses that I'm running with, since byleth isn't sworn to any house, it makes it easier. It also helps me with more situations with each house, which I love all equally. that's a lie.
> 
> also Edelgard's conversation is here purely for development and insight, and that besides Alois and Seteth, she's literally the first person you see coming out of the room. Which is funny to me. 
> 
> byleth's scenes with Seteth and the knights is also me trying to spread some light on how he functions. holy knights are described from the wiki as only the knights that can wield holy relics, but I find that to be a bunch of bullshit bc no one has a damn relic in the knights other than Catherine, flayn, and seteth. so anyone important is a holy knight idc. alois is important too, but eh. he seems too gungho for titles.
> 
> Jeralt being with the blue lions came from no particular place, it's just the house I thought would suit him best.
> 
> lysithea and claude are my two favorite golden deer so they will be featured extensively. marianne too, I love her too. 
> 
> that's basically it, I'm gonna go not fail my classes now. peace.


	3. New Angels of Promise

“I think if they did it right we would’ve won.”

The clash of steel.

The screech of the grind.

“You lost the moment Claude stayed his hand.”

The laugh of a man.

“Maybe I did.”

Exhale of breath.

The sheath of a sword.

“Let’s call it a draw.”

The thud of a spear hitting the ground.

“Good plan, I could use some food.”

Jeralt and his son were practicing within the training grounds late into the day. Jeralt didn’t exert himself too much in the mock battle, the only real ache he was feeling was getting blindsided by an explosion of locusts that Lysithea pulled only the slightest of punches on. The very memory of it made his bones ache. The other thing that was aching was his head as Byleth tore apart his battle strategy like the peel of a banana, revealing all of the shortcomings of his plans.

Byleth had meant what he said before, that the Blue Lions were the best group of fighters in the school. You can tell a lot about someone by the way they stand, how they posture themselves, and from how people like Felix, Ingrid, Dedue, Dimitri; hell even Sylvain carried themselves, they were no stranger to combat. In one and one duels, they would only hold competition from the likes of Edelgard, Claude, Hubert, maybe Hilda if she decided to do something. He also relayed his feelings that he told Seteth when the mock battle began: that the Black Eagles held a superior strategy than even Claude’s. They didn’t account for the number of men on the field and suffered for it, just as the Blue Lions did.

Apparently, there was to be a second battle that was a little more formal later on in the year, hopefully, it would be less of a landslide at that time.

As Jeralt pointed out, however, they had better things to do than dwell on an exhibition that meant next to nothing. Byleth was sure that the only one who this victory would dwell on would be Claude and his not-at-all fragile ego. The students of the Golden Deer were much too self-aware to allow themselves a victory of a mock battle to consume them, even Lorenz. The other two houses and their students will most likely think about it for a week or two and use the defeat to fuel their own goals, and as motivation to keep improving.

Good for them kids.

Going past that, father and son made their way from the training grounds to the mess hall to grab some food that they were sorely missing at this point. They walked and talked in an attempt to fill the silence.

“I heard that you met the top brass.” Jeralt said. Byleth kept his eyes forward, as did his father.

“I did.”

“What’d you think?”

Byleth nodded at a patrolling knight that they passed by. Jeralt kept his eyes on his son.

“They’re competent.”

Jeralt snorted a laugh.

“High praise coming from you.”

Byleth glanced at his father and then back to his front as they passed through the grass of the student dormitory. Jeralt wasn’t asking to make conversation, this was how his father tested him. He’s done it his whole life.

“Gilbert is a knight at the top of his class. His posture and face make him out to be stern. Not the best leader-type, but a good soldier.” Byleth passed by the fact that he sent Gilbert to lead a small detachment of knights and moved on.

“Shamir reminds me of me. Former merc if her words betray her right. Very useful. Probably best at small groups, which is what I sent her on.” Probably the only one that would make a great leader. He surmised.

“Catherine seems loud and hungry for a fight. Wouldn’t be a great leader either with her burning heart.” He also ignored that he sent her to a mission where the first priority was to observe. Hopefully, she didn’t make a mess of things.

Jeralt stayed silent, a small smile on his face as he kept his eyes forward. He hung on every word his son said.

“What do you think of Alois?” He asked. Byleth looked at his father as the greenhouse came into view.

“I don’t see why they didn’t make him Captain. He would be the best suited.” Jeralt gave his son a blank look.

“You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

Byleth shrugged.

“You’re right, he seems too proud. Even for a knight.”

Jeralt’s booming laugh sent the birds hanging around the small lake into a complete and total retreat.

“Yeah, that’s him alright!” Whatever wildlife wasn’t scared of his laugh were scared by the sheer volume of his words; even the fish ran in mortal terror. Jeralt collected himself as they climbed the steps to the mess hall, the door placed right in front of them. His voice lowered again to reasonable levels as they approached other people like he didn’t notice it before.

“I saw you with that munchkin as we were marching back to the keep. What was that about?” Jeralt asked as they opened the door to the mess hall and walked in. From the smell hitting Byleth’s nostrils, it smelled like a pork kind of night.

Students, knights, and other faculty alike sat at tables grouped like gangs at a school: armor stayed with armor, robes stayed with robes, and uniforms stayed with uniforms. He could even see a bored-looking Manuela and an excited Hanneman at a shared table to themselves.

And as if on cue, Byleth’s traveling eyes went to Lysithea’s. As they met, she offered him a smile and a wave, which he returned with a nod of his own. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeralt look a lot more interested in the food being passed onto a buffet table rather than his interactions with people here, thank the Goddess.

…

_You alright, Sothis?_

…

No answer. She must be sleeping, but that weird feeling he got definitely wasn’t his own; at least by his lonesome. Byleth figured it was about time to answer his father’s question.

“I was asking her about Reason magic, I wanted to learn more about it.” Byleth turned his head to look at his father, who had already dashed from his side to the side of the table of food like a ravaging animal. His hands went from spoon to spoon as he served himself like he was dying of starvation. His father had quite the appetite, sure, he was always training and all those calories burnt meant something had to go back in, but with the amount he ate you would think his father was bulking to look like a bear. Which maybe wasn’t that far off from the truth.

Byleth shook his head and followed in his father’s footsteps, grabbing his own plate of foodstuffs and following him to a table that Jeralt had procured, who was also already digging through his plate like a man unleashed. Byleth sat down at the table and marveled at the sheer display of ferocity and peak of male performance.

“One of these days, father, you are going to choke while eating and that will be the first time I will laugh.” Byleth said with his standard indifference. His words almost did ring true as Jeralt coughed once, slamming a fist into his chest as swallowed the lump of food in his throat down his gullet. He gasped one loud, reaching breath. He took his mug and took a long swig of his drink, slamming the wooden thing down to the table and breathing a breath of satisfaction and a little laugh.

“Dammit kid, you almost killed me.”

“Maybe if you slowed down this wouldn’t be a problem.”

Jeralt let out a laugh again, loud enough that a few glares were sent their way. Byleth returned them with one of his own and they went away as soon as they came. Being in power had its perks.

They both grew silent, the two men looking at their food but neither moving a muscle. Byleth simply had nothing to say, but his father’s internal struggle was leaking to the service as his eyes glanced from side to side, leaning forward on the table with his forearms.

“Remember our talk a few days ago?” His father finally relented. Byleth nodded. “There’s something you should know.” He paused. “A lot actually.”

Byleth stayed quiet.

“I have a lot of history with this place, and there’s a lot that even I wouldn’t want you to know, things that should stay buried.” His father winced as he spoke the last part, subtly, but not a lot of things went unnoticed by Byleth’s stone gaze. “After we eat, you mind following me somewhere?”

Byleth nodded.

“Good.” He rubbed his chin with his hand, the movement of his beard making a scratching noise. “It’s something I should’ve shown you when we first got here but…” His father trailed off, so he picked it back up.

“We were busy, I get it.”

Jeralt would normally smile at his son’s understanding viewpoint, but the thing eating at his gut was making it hard to focus stretch his mouth even a little. He shook his head and looked at his son.

“Let’s eat and worry about it later, huh?”

Byleth nodded back.

They ate in absolute silence. Byleth noticed his father eating like a normal human being, which was never a good sign. He also saw his darting from side to side, subtly, like he was scouting the very room for threats. Normally his father let his guard down during meals, but whatever was inside his head was eating at him a great deal. Byleth decided he had to wait and just shoveled the food down so they could get on with it.

And so they did. After disposing of their garbage and food scraps they left the mess hall and into the young night. Jeralt led the way, Byleth unable to see his face. He could see the other’s ever so slightly drooped shoulders; an unusual look for the man he’s looked up to most of his life. They traveled like this silently in the dark of the night, as they ended up passing by the Knight’s training grounds and squire living quarters. They passed through as silent as can be as they strolled to the northeast of the monastery and down a small staircase that led to a grassy patch of land.

Byleth felt the pit in his stomach come back as the sight of gravestones came into his sight.

Jeralt stopped at a gravestone directly in front of the staircase, his head tipped down as he stared at it. Byleth came to his side and gave him a quick glance. His eyes looked tired and filled with emotions that Byleth didn’t even know the names to; his mouth angled in a frown.

Byleth could hazard a guess just as to what Jeralt was showing him.

“Is this… my mother?” Byleth asked quietly. Jeralt’s eyes never left the grave as he gave a small, solemn nod.

“Yes. She died here.”

Byleth looked at the grave. The lettering on the stone was eroded slightly, the epitaph almost illegible as was her surname, but he could clearly make out her first name.

“Sitri…” He quietly said to himself. His mother’s name was Sitri.

The dots began to fill in his head.

“I was born here?” Byleth asked, not turning his eyes away from the stone. Neither did Jeralt.

“Yeah… You were. A long time ago.”

Byleth wasn’t angry about that. As long as his father opened up and told him what happened here twenty years ago, he was fine with being late to the party.

But…

As Byleth stared at the grave of his mother, he started feeling things that he’s never felt before.

He felt his stiff shoulders fall.

He felt his head fall forward ever so slightly.

He felt his immaculate posture falter.

His eyes felt smaller.

The worst part of all was the pit in his stomach had traveled upwards to his chest. It lingered over his still heart.

“…father.” He whispered with a small voice. Jeralt didn’t respond or look away.

“Is this what it’s like to feel… sad?”

…

“Yeah.” He said whispered.

…

“Does it ever go away?”

Jeralt shook his head slowly with his eyes closed.

“Never.”

They stood in silence for a while. Each paying their respects in their own way.

“What was she like?” Byleth asked.

Jeralt let out a breath of air through his nose.

“She… she was gentle. She got sick easily and couldn’t leave the monastery. She loved hearing stories, which is how I met her and why I married her.” He looked at another grave and the flowers left there. “She loved flowers, too.”

Byleth stayed quiet. His father glanced at him.

“You’re more like her than me.”

Byleth moved his head slightly took at Jeralt through the side of his eye, whose gaze rested on his wife.

“She loved books and reading, like you, and she had a hard time expressing herself.” He reached over and tousled his son’s hair. “You look like her, too.”

Byleth slapped his arm away playfully.

Jeralt chuckled to himself. Both of their gazes fell back to the third member of the family.

They stayed in silence, comfortably.

* * *

“You want me to what?

‘Drastic measures’ are a funny thing. It’s when the odds are so immeasurable, so daunting, so overwhelming that the ways that you’d normally fight mean nothing: a massive army at the gates, a mage gathering the very fires of hell to throw in your direction, even being unarmed against a normal armored soldier. Such things are among the list of immeasurable odds that require pulling something that you may not even be capable of to survive, for when your backs are to the wall, people are known to pull miracles never before seen by man.

What Byleth didn’t understand was why the group of untrained bandits that attacked Remire as requiring drastic measures and just why she considered drastic measures as including students to strike them down.

“It is as I said. I wish you take a class of students to the Red Canyon to bring those bandits to justice.” Rhea said, standing in her throne room with Seteth by her side.

“I’m having a hard time understanding. Why would I bring a bunch of inexperienced kids and not the knights?” Byleth asked.

“Because these children are the future. They’ll require the experience it’ll bring if they are to grow, and what better protection and guide than our Captain of the knights?”

Byleth pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed with his eyes closed. This was pure insanity, he could probably kill them all by himself and it wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. Yet at the same time, if he was in their shoes then a few bandits with no real armor, weapons, or training would be the safest way to get the taste of real battle, notwithstanding the presence of someone like him. He took the hands away from his face and looked back at Rhea, her perpetual smile on her face.

“I’m not going to get you to change your mind, am I?”

At his words, Rhea’s smile just seemed to get _smilier_. He took that as her response and sighed again.

“Fine, but I get to pick the class. I have my first classes with each of them today.” He said, defeated. Rhea nodded in her benevolent way.

“Of course, inform me of your decision once it’s been made. You will set out at the end of the month, so prepare them and yourself as best as you’re able.”

Byleth nodded and brought his fist to his chest.

“Then I will take my leave.”

Byleth turned and walked with a purpose out of the room to and do something that actually made sense to him. As fantastical as it was to him, that happened to be a lesson in combat to a bunch of students in the middle of a church that held an army of knights in the thousands that he was in charge of.

Okay, maybe it didn’t make any sense.

He shook his head as he entered the main hall of whatever this building is called. He had more important things to worry about.

First up, the Blue Lions.

“Felix. Ashe. Step forward.”

Not twenty minutes after speaking with Rhea about her oddly specific and nonsensical wish, Byleth now got to standing within the training grounds with the class of the Blue Lions. These children were under his care, and as is his belief that this was the most well-trained class of the three, his care would be comparatively more strict than what he planned with the other classes. Five of them were in varying degrees and stages of skill but knew well the importance of discipline; the other three were motivated and had an eagerness to learn. It would make this easier, and he may even enjoy it.

He didn’t get a good look at each of their individual styles from what happened at the mock battle, he was much too far away to notice any nuance and habit from them. He decided he would spar with each class to gauge their abilities.

In the case of Felix and Ashe, this was a little of a special case. Felix was devoted to learning how to fight, absorbing styles and techniques were his thing, reportedly; Ashe wanted to learn as much as he could to one day take over his adoptive father’s house should that day come. The thing that not just these two, but everyone in this house would need to learn if they wanted to get to the next level was that technique and style don’t affect if you die or don’t die on the battlefield.

It comes down to your mind.

Again, why these two? Well, Felix was the most devoted to training and throwing his head down when he swung against the practice dummies, he barely even left this area. Ashe was the only bow user in the group and he would rather postpone any instance of him getting lit on fire for as long as he possibly could. They would serve as the easiest examples to be made, as cruel as it sounded.

Felix and Ashe both stepped forward, Felix’s hand grasping a wooden practice sword and Ashe fiddling with a bowstring. Byleth scanned them both, then addressed the group at large.

“Today, I want to test what you eight have. You’ll be sparring against me so I can see what I can do to best guide you along.” He spoke like he was speaking to men under his own command.

Ingrid raised a hand.

“Go ahead.” He waved the tip of his sword at her.

“Are all of them going to be two-on-one? I feel as though that’s not an accurate way to gauge our abilities.” She said. Byleth nodded.

“I believe that the Lions are the most far along in terms of pure skill and training. Some of you may need to learn lessons that aren’t from fencing instructors or handbooks.” Byleth leaned his sword on his shoulder as he looked at the two students in front of them. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Felix readied his sword with both hands in front of him, Ashe grabbed an arrow from his quiver and let it rest on the bowstring.

They came at him at the same time, Felix charged him directly and Ashe raised his bow and took aim directly at Byleth’s head. Byleth spread his stance and held out his sword with the blade pointing at the ground. He could see the more seasoned of the students behind his two opponents with tilted heads or scrunched faces, most likely wonder why Byleth had no guard whatsoever.

That was because this was going exactly how Byleth thought it would be.

Felix came within swinging distance as Ashe drew this bowstring, arrow about to fly. Felix had taken one step too far, he could’ve swung and hit him by now, but he still kept taking steps. Byleth was originally just going to sidestep the swing and arrow at the same time, but this might end up being more educational than he thought. Also entertaining, but that was an afterthought.

Byleth reached up and grabbed Felix’s forearm and pulled him into him, his sword flying out of his land and landing on the dirt floor. Ashe’s arrow had flown loose the moment Byleth had laid his hand on the charging boy, who was now trapped within the grasp of the Ashen Demon, unable to move.

Felix looked behind him to see what Ashe was doing, only to get bonked in the noggin by the blunted practice arrow. To his dismay and the entertainment of the students surrounding him.

Byleth let go of Felix and looked toward Ashe, who looked somewhere between wanting to laugh, cry, and beg for mercy. To his credit, he stood his ground and nocked another arrow with shaky hands. Byleth stepped forward, one foot after another, as he slowly and methodically walked toward Ashe.

Ashe let an arrow loose. Byleth didn’t so much as flinch as the arrow whizzed by his head.

Another arrow loose. Byleth didn’t flinch as it grazed his shoulder.

Another arrow loose. Byleth didn’t flinch as it fell to the ground a few feet to the side, nocked improperly.

Now, Byleth was right in front of him with not a foot separating them. Ashe looked up into the emotionless blue eyes of Byleth as the Captain lifted up his wooden sword. Ashe flinched and brought his head down as he prepared to bonked just as hard as Felix did. Only, he didn’t. Byleth simply placed the sword on top of his head.

“Bonk.”

Byleth heard a couple of the girl’s stifled giggles at his completely disfigured words and motioned for the two boys to get in line. He walked back to the spot he took in front of them before, once again speaking to the whole group.

“Who can tell me what they did wrong.”

Byleth heard cricket noises. Bad cricket noises.

_Stop that._

He heard the gremlin giggle and go silent again.

Maybe that was too hard a question to start with.

“Better question: who can say what Felix did wrong.” He saw Felix glare at him from the corner of his vision, but he paid it no mind.

Ingrid again raised her hand. He nodded at her.

“He waited too long to swing his sword.” She said.

Byleth waved at her with his practice sword.

“Right, which let me use his body against him to disarm him and take a blow meant for me.”

Felix’s glare relaxed at his explanation and shifted any remnants of it to a corner where he couldn’t see Byleth. Byleth looked at Ashe with the best sympathetic look he could muster.

“Not to bully you, but I figured you would panic if you didn’t have a frontline to cover you. I didn’t even need to dodge.”

Ashe pursed his lips and looked away, rubbing his neck.

“Don’t think too much of it, you two.”

The two looked back at their instructor.

“You’re young. Soldiers in a fight will look at you and think you’re inexperienced, which you are. They might not make you a human shield, but they will use any years they have on you to their advantage.” He started to pace. “The most important thing in a fight isn’t the amount of training you do, day and day out, it is not the number of times you spend studying battle strategies, it isn’t the amount of time you spend looking up to your inspiration,” He stopped. “It is what you can think of.”

Dimitri raised his hand.

“I mean no disrespect, but many of us were taught that the moment we have to think, is the moment we die.” He said.

Byleth breathed air out his mouth and looked directly at the crown prince of Faerghus.

“No offense, but you had a shitty teacher.”

While a few of them recoiled at his words, he started pacing again.

“That’s not to say that isn’t true, if you have to think hard on the battlefield you’ll end up with a sword in your gut without even realizing it. The important thing is being creative. It should come as second nature.” He stopped moving. “When I first called Ashe and Felix up I was originally going to sidestep his swing and Ashe’s arrow at the same time, but the opportunity for something better came up; and when something better comes up, you take advantage.”

“You do anything you can do to win.”

“This may not be something some of you want to hear, but nothing else matters. Chivalry, honor, glory; they mean nothing if you’re dead.”

Ingrid and Annette looked positively deflated as he scanned the line of students once more. Felix, on the other hand, seemed more interested with every word he said. Everyone else looked more or less nonplussed at his words. Granted, his words were meant to bite at some of their very cores, so maybe he wasn’t as effective as he thought. He breathed a hearty breath through his nose.

“I know you all have your hearts in the right places,” He spoke softer this time. “But things like glory, things that are just a statistic, are secondary for the goals you have for yourself.” He looked at Ingrid, a little less energetic than usual. “Ingrid, you wish to become a knight, yes?”

She met his eyes and gave a nod.

“Are tales of your own chivalry and glory being spouted in the corners of bars and taverns all you want from it?”

Her features hardened.

“No.”

“How about fighting for a cause you believe in? Protecting that which is important to you? Striving for a better tomorrow?”

Her face brightened ever so slightly. She nodded one hard nod.

“And that won’t happen if you’re dead. You are a well-trained knight-to-be, Ingrid. It would be a huge loss to the world if you died because you couldn’t get off your mount in front of a squad of archers.”

Ingrid still looked a little deflated, but a small smile spread on her face at his words.

“The same for all of you. All of that work, all that training and studying would go to waste if you simply did what the storybooks did.”

His eyebrows went down.

“For your class, I will not teach you how to fight, you already know how. I will teach you to survive.”

* * *

Two hours later, at noon, the Golden Deer was next.

This one was going to be interesting.

This house held some of the craftier kids: Claude, Lysithea, Hilda. It had some decent straight up fighters like Raphael, Leonie, and Lorenz, and some people who just didn’t want to fight like Ignatz and Marianne. This class didn’t need to crassness that just held toward the Lions, they weren’t ready for that, instead, what they needed was a little bit of a reminder.

“Raphael. You’re first.”

“Aye, aye!”

The burly student tightened his training gloves and moved across from Byleth. Much like the majority of the Lions, Raphael was a boy who devoted himself to training, every moment of his waking life was spent towards getting stronger; every moment asleep was resting so he could to more the next day. He brought his fists up in a boxing stance, one arm very forward from the normal and the other one very close to his chest. From what Byleth knew about stances, it was so the jab hand could quicker go in and out; it was less about damage and more about feeling and the reminder that it was there to keep the opponent on their toes.

He wasn’t expecting Raphael to strategize. He was pleasantly surprised.

Raphael inched forward, slowly. Byleth brought his free hand up to serve as an impromptu shield while his practice sword was raised with his elbow at a right angle. If this was going to go like how he thought it was going to go, then this would take not long at all.

Raphael through a quick jab, deflected by Byleth’s arm. Again, again, again, and again. Byleth was getting faster and faster at meeting them, until…

Raphael through his right for a haymaker, which Byleth caught with his hand, an exasperated look on the bigger man’s face. It calmed down when he felt the poke of wood on his stomach. Then he laughed.

“Good hit! You’re no punching bag, Captain.” He said, a massive smile on his face. His defeat wasn’t even on his mind.

“I take it you haven’t fought another person that much, big guy?”

“Yeah, not really.”

Byleth slapped Raphael on the back.

“A word of advice?” Raphael nodded. “If you’re going to fight with your fists, you might want to wear heavier armor. You’re much too big to focus on dodging and it’s a big part of brawling like that. Maybe an ax, too.”

Raphael scratched the back of his head.

“I dunno, I haven’t thought of that. I’ve just been trying to get stronger.”

A corner of Byleth’s mouth came up ever so slightly. He put a hand on the bigger man’s shoulder.

“We’ve got a year to experiment, Raphael, don’t sweat it.”

Raphael made a big, dumb grin. Byleth threw his chin back at the line, and Raphael followed the order, falling back in.

“That goes for everyone.” He addressed the Deer. “You’ve got a year here. Experiment, try new things, you might find a new interest, maybe even a new goal.” He looked at Ignatz with the last part, whose eyes locked onto him the more and more he talked. Byleth nodded back at him.

Next, he had a request to fulfill. His eyes went toward Leonie.

He asked Jeralt about Leonie, his very few conversations with her just being about his father, and made him a little uncomfortable. For one, the girl said that she was his ‘first and best apprentice’, which was news to him when they first met. Second, Jeralt said that he taught her a few of the basics of spearmanship and give her a charm he made when he was bored. He was there when Byleth was around ten, when he left his son at Remire back from before he was trained to kill another. Apparently, the interaction became Leonie’s entire reason for living and want to become a mercenary.

It was healthy to have goals, but this was an obsession.

Back to the request, Jeralt had asked him, probably as a joke, to ‘see how good my fan club is’.

Byleth was sure to not tell him the answer.

“Leonie, your turn.”

She didn’t say a word, only readied her spear as she took her place across from Byleth. There was a fire in her eyes, her expression filled with determination.

He had an idea of how this was going to go, and he probably might regret it later. For better or worse.

Leonie charged forward, jousting her lance in front of her like a standard competition. Byleth easily dodged to the side and loosened part of his grip on his sword so that it would fall into a reverse grip.

He could practically feel Claude’s interest from where he was standing.

Leonie swung her spear around her body the long way, pirouetting herself for as much force as she could. Byleth raised his sword up to block the swing, angling the would-be blade underneath the head. Leonie looked flabbergasted. He took her self-imposed stun to grab the polearm from where the head met the shaft and yanked from her grasp and poked it back into her midsection. With a loud grunt, she fell gracelessly to the ground, dust picking up in the wind. He walked forward and held the blade under her neck to signal her defeat.

“Nice try, but you shouldn’t try the Jeralt special on his own son. I’ve been seeing that move for years.”

Jeralt when fighting bandits had a combo, so to speak. It would only really work against people who were hardly trained or just plain dumb, and he came up with it for the pure purpose of making quick work of a group, going from one barely armed bandit to the next. He taught Leonie it, but like a low-rank chess player, she probably did the same move every time.

Byleth held out a hand as he looked at the look on the girl’s face. There a few that he recognized, none good: embarrassment, anger, and frustration from her flared face and narrow eyebrows, but the most prevalent one came from her eyes. The fire within them became focused, narrowed, directly at him. The way a corner of her mouth reached up to her cheek betrayed what she truly felt.

Hate and disgust.

She looked at him in the eyes as she ignored his hand and got up on her own. She didn’t retrieve her spear, nor did she fall back in line.

“You got lucky.” She said to him. She walked directly to the door of the training grounds and left.

He stared at the door, his gaze accompanied by the seven students that remained. Claude shrugged.

“She’ll calm down, I don’t think she’s used to being embarrassed like that.” He said. Byleth shrugged in return.

“It’s part of the process.” He looked around. “I was going to have you all spar with a partner after these preliminaries, but… I don’t think that’ll really work.”

“Oooh, does that mean the class is canceled early?” Hilda was hurriedly excited. Byleth resisted the urge to chuckle.

“Oh no, it’ll take more than that. We’ve still got six more of you to get through, and it’s nice of you to volunteer.”

Hilda groaned, loudly as she stepped forward.

* * *

The Black Eagles were a damned disaster.

Two more hours after that, the Adrestian students came up, and it was an experience. The other two houses were at least able to fight, they may not know the ‘hows’ or in some cases ‘whys’ but they were malleable.

This class was much, much different.

Bernadetta couldn’t even draw her bow. Caspar dropped his ax mid charge and figuratively killed himself by running into it headfirst. Linhardt almost fell asleep in the middle of it. Dorothea tried to flirt her way out of it, only to get a sword thrown at her head by an exacerbated Byleth.

That was half the class, with literally no idea what they were doing. On the plus side, there were some pluses.

Petra had done about as well as the solo fight with Felix, they both stood their ground for a few minutes, but when Byleth put on the pressure, they started making mistakes and paid for it.

Ferdinand was inexperienced and it showed more than any student there, judging from how he held his spear. He took his showing in stride though and kept his head up high.

Hubert was the closest any of them had come to hitting him, but he also wasn’t expecting the throw of his sword landing on his head through a cloud of dust; to Edelgard’s great amusement.

Edelgard was where he expected her to be. Brutally efficient in her movements with her weapon but lacking in decision making and footwork. She would make a fine soldier once she was more experienced.

If he was being honest, this was the group that he was most considering bringing to the Red Canyon. They desperately, desperately needed some real experience, and it would accelerate their progress more than any other class if they were brought there.

With that, the day was done and Byleth had retreated to a small storage space where they kept the storage for the practice weapons to clean up after himself. He sighed as he finished putting the wooden weapons back. It was a long day for him, and he was feeling it right in the brain. He really just wanted to clear his mind by fishing or something, and then go to bed.

As he exited the storage area and returned to the dirt-covered space of the training ground, he thought that his wishes may have to be put on hold for the time being. He saw Edelgard, smacking a practice dummy with a little more force than necessary. A lot more force than necessary.

He walked over to her, the still high-held sun beating down on the training ground. She was so involved in thwacking the poor thing to death that she didn’t see his long shadow on the dirt in front of her.

“I wasn’t enough for you, I take it?” Byleth said. Edelgard didn’t jump, only side-eyed him as she gave the dummy another chop to the head.

“This isn’t training, this is venting.” She groaned through gritted teeth, hitting the dummy again. Byleth crossed his arms.

“About what?”

Edelgard hit the dummy hard enough to part the wood a tiny bit. She left the ax lodged in its wooden skull as she turned to face him, frustration leaking to her face and out of her voice.

“My class was an embarrassment, half of them didn’t even get one attack off. “ She spat. Byleth couldn’t show it, but he was confused.

“That’s why you’re frustrated?”

“Yes, that is why I am _frustrated_.” She spat at him, directly now.

Byleth wasn’t affected, she was annoyed and more, she didn’t mean it. Probably didn’t even realize she said it. He went over in his head on what he could say.

He could tell her that Hubert came the closest to hitting him.

He could tell her that she did well herself.

He could tell her about what happened with Leonie.

He decided that none of it mattered. There was another way to communicate what he meant.

He looked around back to the entrance, Edelgard’s own ax leaning against the wall in the shade. He walked over, Edelgard’s eyes boring holes into his back that intensified when he picked it up. He strolled back and handed it to her, handle first. She took it begrudgingly and with a scrunched face.

“What are-.” She tried to say.

“I’m better practice than that piece of wood.” He said, drawing his sword and holding it in front of him.

She looked between the dummy and the Captain for a quick moment, then got into position in front of him.

Byleth, for the first time all day, made the first move. He ran forward, an overhead swing going towards Edelgard. She blocked it with the handle, one hand on the head of her ax.

The truth is, Byleth had felt something coming from Edelgard that he didn’t feel with any of the other students.

He used the moment from ricochet to spin around and attack from the side, spinning on his whole body. Edelgard back-stepped out of the way.

It was very normal for fighters to wear their heart on their sleeves when they fought. A symbol of pride in the progress they’ve made and how far they’ve come.

Edelgard trudged forward one step, ax coming down overhead. Byleth back-stepped it himself.

Edelgard didn’t do that. She hid it when she fought. Her movements become forced, as though it didn’t come naturally; sometimes her eyes will blank, like his own.

Byleth stepped on top of the ax head, burying it an inch into the ground, and slid forward.

What he truly did know, is that when a fighter stiffens on the battlefield the way she does, it means they are ashamed of themselves. That her very picture of herself was a shameful, hated thing.

Edelgard ducked a swing from Byleth and rolled forward.

Edelgard wasn’t angry because of her class’s display from earlier. Maybe it embarrassed her, but not to the point where she tried to give a dummy a lobotomy.

She picked up her ax out of the ground and readied herself again.

She was angry because of herself. She hated herself, she was ashamed to live in her own skin. For what, Byleth could not even guess.

She swung diagonally, Byleth switched his grip and stepped to the side.

Every time she fought, she was reminded of the reason that she was doing it. She was reminded of how much shame and self-hate she felt.

He saw the blank look in her eyes when she missed that hit.

He raised his blade under the head of the ax and pulled into it. Her whole body lurched forward.

Maybe it didn’t tell her anything, but this fight confirmed what Byleth was thinking.

He grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her in close, wrapping an arm around her and holding the blade to her neck.

This fight told him what he needed to tell her.

She dropped her ax in an acknowledgment of defeat, and he let her go. He back a few steps away from her to give her space to breathe, which she gratefully took. She turned around to look at Byleth. She was panting, her shoulders falling with the rhythm of her breathing. Byleth was as calm of body as ever.

“Do you normally do that?” She asked between breaths. He nodded.

“It’s how I was taught. With real steel. It makes a better teacher than wood.” He said, glancing at the practice-dummy-turned-weapon rack. She nodded rapidly.

“I have to agree, that was exhilarating. Do you think we could do that some other time? I’ve never been pulled by the ax before like that.”

“That’s one of my signatures.” He said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind.” He sheathed his sword, Edelgard mirroring it with her ax.

She smiled brightly.

“Thank you, Byleth.” She looked at the sky and back to him. “I should go, I have paperwork for the empire to take care of and I’d like to finish it before nightfall.” She nodded. “Farewell.”

She turned to leave and made it a few steps.

“Wait a minute, Edelgard.”

She turned her body halfway to face him.

“Whatever it is you’re fighting or running from. It’s not your sole burden to bear.”

Her wide and stunned eyes could only follow him as he strolled up next to her and looked directly into her.

“Even an emperor has friends.”

He walked forward to the exit.

“Until next time, Edelgard.”

He left the training grounds.

Edelgard could only stare at the dummy that she had more in common with than she thought.

* * *

Fishing was great.

It was a time to relax, to think, to do nothing even; just sitting at the edge of a riverbank with a wire in the river with no hook brings some form of serenity to Byleth’s hectic life. This was also a time to reflect, something he found himself doing a lot more ever since he ‘joined’ the Knights of Seiros.

“Today was quite the day, and it is not even the evening, yet.” Sothis said, floating in the air above the water.

Byleth found out that she could materialize herself in his vision whenever she wanted to, so when she did that for the first time in his room when he first woke and he grabbed a sword and started swing on instinct, she was glad that it was just in his vision. The only weird thing is that he couldn’t respond to her in his thoughts, he had to speak, a whisper would work, but he still looked like he was having a robust conversation with himself. He counted himself lucky they were outside of the monastery, fishing at a river in a secluded forest that she decided to sprout herself from his head and stretch her limbs.

“Yes, it was.” He said, a little louder than he realized.

“I’m sure it was enjoyable for you, embarrassing twenty-four students. Future world-leaders, heads of noble houses, and generals alike all fell victim to your brutal training.”

“I wouldn’t call that brutal. It was just sparring with me and amongst themselves.”

“Brutal for their egos, that is.”

Okay that, he could believe.

He sighed. It didn’t feel very good, but in the name of progress and improvement, worse things have been done. Far worse.

As a matter of fact, he had brought a hook and bait, but the water wasn’t flowing at all so he doubted that he would catch anything worthwhile; fine by him, this quiet time would do him no end of good. Whenever Sothis decided he was worthy of having it.

“I must ask, how did you get the idea of what to say the heiress?” Sothis asked.

Byleth shook the fishing rod out of habit. Probably out of a tick, too.

“She second-guesses herself, from the way that she fights.” He shook the rod again. “Something eats at her, a painful memory, or a decision that she regrets. Something she feels she can’t tell others.”

“I know that, we share trains of thought.” News to him. “I meant how did the words you spoke come to mind?”

He shook the rod hard. It came out of the water and submerged itself again with a hard plop.

“I always had my father to tell me that I was doing fine and that I was not alone. Where others ignored me, he made sure that I had someone to tell me that I was on the right track.”

“She needed to know the same.”

“And would that someone be you?” Sothis asked.

Byleth shrugged.

“If that’s what she wants, then maybe. That’s up to her, I’m sure she had people in mind when I said that.”

“That’s very kind of you, Byleth.” She said, floating across the water like she laying on a float. “You know, you can be quite kind when you want to be.” She said with smugness.

He rolled his eyes. Then they snapped to the fishing rod.

The line started shaking and Byleth’s hands shook along with it. He didn’t tug, he kept his grip firm and his hand as steady as possible, waiting for the right time between the fish getting tired and it losing control of its mouth and escaping the hook. He stood steady, as he felt the fist slowly and slowly begin to weaken, and once it started just barely shaking.

He pulled the line out of the water and let it dangle above the water. He pulled it back close to him and unhooked the fist from the hook. It was a trout, a rainbow one, could feed a couple people from how damn heavy these things are. He threw it into the bucket and cast his line back into the water. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Sothis floating above the bucket with her hands holding up her head as she laid prone above the ground. She stared at the still-trying-to-breath fish with narrow eyebrows.

“Is there not a word for this?” She asked. Byleth glanced at her, then back to the water.

“Landed?”

She shook her head.

“No, no, something more general.” She said, snapping her fingers.

Her face brightened as the realization dawned on her.

“Oh! It was-.”

* * *

Monachopsis.

The feeling of being out of place. A fish out of water. Square peg in a round hole. An ugly duckling. The sinking feeling in your gut that no matter where you go, no matter what you do, no matter what you change; that subtle feeling of being somewhere you’re not supposed to be doesn’t go away from some of us.

For Edelgard von Hresvelg, she was no exception. In fact, she was the poster girl.

In her whole family, she was the only one with a Crest. She had ten siblings, her father, the emperor, had eleven children. Eleven loving, energetic, cheerful children with no end of hope in their eyes and in their hearts.

One by one, she watched them die. Whether from the exertion and pain of having their skin torn apart and their guts prodded at, whether it be from the disease and sickness that came with living in a rat-infested dungeon, whether it came from them sacrificing their food to their younger siblings and dying from malnourishment; she watched them pass away. Edelgard watched in a cell as they took her siblings away from the cell they all shared to cut open their flesh and poke at what makes them breathe, what makes their heartbeat. Some came back, for others, that was the last time she ever saw them. Others died in their sleep, others just stopped breathing then and there.

Until one day, she was the last one left. That day, they brought her into the room that for some of her brothers and sisters was the last they ever saw. For a week, she was strapped for a table. For a week, a nine-year-old girl felt her skin get torn apart and stitched back together like an old doll being repaired. The scars that she bore covered her hands, arms, and chest. She passed out from the pain and insomnia on the third day. She awoke days later to see the fruits of their captor’s labor. A massive vertical scar above her heart. A second Crest, implanted right above her heart.

The most powerful one of them all: the Crest of Flames. Only inherited by the bloodline of the Goddess herself.

Ironic, considering she ignored the Hresvelg’s prayers and damned them to their fates.

That formed her goals, her opinions, her resolve. To prevent anything like that from happening again.

To make Crests nothing more than birthmarks.

To impede the nobility that backed and led her captors to trap them in the dark, dark dungeons of the palace itself.

To prevent a father from having to watch her children be tortured and died, powerless to stop it. Like her own did.

She would change the world. Even if it meant her own life.

She was the heir apparent. She would be emperor of the largest nation on the continent come the new year. She would shake the very foundations of this world and tear them asunder. She would rebuild what makes the world move, take away the archaic system of predestination and false promises from a stagnant and complacent Goddess and replace it with a world where your achievements alone define who you are. Her goals were set, she would not falter; in the name of her brothers, sisters, mother, and father, she would never falter.

So why?

Why was what happened earlier eating at her so much?

Byleth knew her for not even two weeks, and yet all that she wished to keep hidden away was laid bare. Not the specifics, granted, but the fact that he could even see that there was something that she was hiding ate at her.

When he jumped out in front of her at Remire to deflect that bandit’s blow, it was as if he knew exactly what was going to happen: how fast he would move, what blow he would try to make, he knew exactly where to be and what to do. If he knew that, then Byleth was a cut above the rest of the whole of the monastery. The fact that he even knew there was something wrong was a problem.

And therein lies the bigger problem.

Could she kill him?

Could she lack the heart that Duke Aegir and the other nobles that backed her family’s imprisonment did? Could she wave her hand as a leader that lead to someone’s death that didn’t even do anything worth punishing? She would be ordering Hubert to kill someone based on the threat he may be someday. At the present, he is simply a military leader, one of her instructors, and she may be reaching on this one: a friend. One that doesn’t pose a threat right now, and may never will.

Edelgard banged her head on her desk in her dimly lit quarters, the only light leaking in through the windows with one of the shutters slightly ajar. Her paperwork from the empire plastered against her forehead and the stack of them on the side shook slightly. If they scattered, she wouldn’t care. Her head was filled with too many thoughts, too many what-ifs, too many questions, to sign her name across documents requesting permission to start some babysitting business or whatever other grand ideas the general populace has.

She hated this.

She hated having the burden of doing all of this. She hated associating with that band of liars and murderers and snakes that slither in the dark. She hated having to second guess her every word and move and if it would be worth it. She hated that the only memories of her brothers and sisters being their final ones and that the only way she deemed to honor them was by turning the world upside down. She hated that the only way she found that she could do it was by starting a war.

She picked her head up and rested it on her hands, arms propped up on her elbows on the desk. She sighed deeply.

Maybe it wasn’t worth thinking about right now. Maybe she could just wing this one thing, and it would work out. Maybe she could not tell Hubert about it and observe him on her own time. Maybe he would be open to joining her crusade.

Maybe.

She hated that word, too.

She hated not having control. It reminded her of the dungeons and the rats and the scalpels and the dark and the purple glow and the screams and the dripping of water from the stone and the breaths and the stares and the cells and the eyes and crying and the…

_Breathe, El, breathe._

She did.

She took one of the papers from the stack and flipped it to its back. She moved her quill and it danced around the page. Sketching, scratching, shading; she drew on the back of the paper. It was something, just to clear her mind, just to focus on something that prevented the memories from flooding her sound and vision as it did too frequently. She’s gotten quite good at it if she could say so herself.

Her hand and quill kept moving, stopping only briefly to dip more ink onto the point. She didn’t know what she was drawing, only thankful for this brief respite from the ghosts and nightmares that haunt her step.

Seconds, minutes, an hour passed before she put down her instrument and stared at the paper in front of her. She really had gotten adept at this. Truthfully, she was sure no one knew that she could do this. Not that she was embarrassed by it, only that it never came up. It was her small escape, where she could be what she wanted to be, if only for a few moments.

As she stared at the picture, that stenciled vision returned her gaze.

She wanted to be El.

* * *

Byleth still did not feel good about any of this.

He had lived here for half a month and couldn’t shake the foreboding he felt as he walked the halls and pathways of Garreg Mach. The ever-present shadow lingered on him like a blanket, and although he wasn’t treated as a pariah or a plain weirdo here - most likely because of his position - he couldn’t shake the feeling of a greater conspiracy on the higher-ups on the ladder.

The only ones higher than him were Rhea and Seteth. It made him jitter. He doubted it would ever stop.

The feeling at the forefront of his mind was his requirement of having one of the three houses joining him on his excursion to the Red Canyon to bring justice to the bandits who chased down the students the night they met. While it was never a great thing to have to bring a bunch of kids, no matter how important they may be, to a bandit encampment was a stupid idea from a tactical standpoint. From a learning lens, it was brilliantly efficient, but only if these kids didn’t end up dead. He would feel better if he could bring one of the Holy Knights with him but they were all on mission, so his guidance would have to do.

The days' classes were coming to an end as he strolled to the classroom building. Students were pouring out of their classrooms, eager to stretch their legs after being imprisoned in a classroom for the past six or so hours. Some students he recognized, some giving him greetings or simple nods as he made his way to the Black Eagle classroom. He returned greetings from some of the kids he’s taken more a liking to Claude, Lysithea, Dimitri, Sylvain, and Felix, to name a few.

Walking into the learning space of the Adrestian students made him notice again that the classrooms were identical only in what primary color their banners were. They might as well not be separated at all.

On this occasion, the true thing separating the three classrooms was the presence of their professor and house leader conversing. Edelgard was the first to notice his approach. She greeted him with a smile.

“Byleth. How nice to see you again.”

“Her smile does not reach her eyes.” Sothis commented.

_… I know._

“Oh…” Her professor, Manuela purred at him. “How very nice it is to see you, Captain.”

Byleth stared at the professor with his normal blank look as her flirtations fell on deaf ears; more accurately, uncaring ones.

“Same to both of you. I have a request for the two of you if you would humor me.”

“Oh, I would help you with anything you’d like.” She said, not skipping a beat. Her student pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Great, then this is a lot easier.”

The two women were not expecting that response and grew more confused by the second. They did not say anything, however, and neither did Byleth let them have the chance.

“Rhea is asking me to deal with a group of bandits in the Red Canyon at the end of the month. Because of them being weak bandits…” He paused as he sighed in frustration. “She’s requesting that I bring one of the houses with me.”

The two women were not expecting that response either.

“I would bring the Black Eagles with me if you’d both indulge me.”

Surprisingly, Manuela did not pounce on the indulge innuendo that Byleth left hanging low in front of her. In fact, she said nothing at all, letting her mouth hang low instead. Edelgard’s did not, but her slightly widened eyes and tilted head told her surprise plainly.

Byleth simply stared back as they digested and processed the information, slowly, from how long they were staring at him. After the longest thirty seconds of his life, someone finally said something. ‘

“I don’t see why not.” Edelgard said. Manuela’s jaw stayed dropped as her head turned to look at her student. She stared for a moment before closing her mouth that somehow didn’t catch a fly and coughed into her sleeve.

“Am I joining, as well?” Manuela asked. Byleth shrugged.

“If you want to, I won’t say no.” Manuela chuckled, maybe half as seductively as she normally did.

“Way to make a girl feel wanted.” She shook her head with a smile on her face. “I’ll decline, I could use the break.”

Byleth nodded at her.

“Suit yourself.” He looked at Edelgard. “I was going to let Rhea know, but if you want to start talking strategy, I would much rather do that.”

She beamed at him.

“And so it reaches her eyes, finally.” Sothis commented.

“I would love to.”

Byleth nodded at Manuela and gave her a polite bow, which she returned with a sly wave and an equally sly smirk on her face. Her eyes darted between the two of them, which Byleth did not care about. He turned and walked to leave, Edelgard on his heel. Once he was sure Manuela wasn’t watching his ass walk away, he turned to Edelgard.

“We’ll talk in my office.” He said. He turned once again and walked off, her now in step with him.

They walked in silence for a time, until they reached the building across from the academy classrooms, where Edelgard had something to say.

“I’m assuming you didn’t pick my class because I’m your favorite student, am I right?” She asked. Byleth didn’t move his head while he walked.

“Correct. Your class benefits the most from the experience of real battle.”

“That’s what I thought.” She said, turning her head away from him ever so slightly.

“You’re over-thinking.” He said. His blunt words caught her off guard, her royal highness probably wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a tone. “You will catch up to the other classes. Your house has potential, you will be fine.”

Although succinct, his words were meant to hammer in the point he spoke of the other day to her. That it’s not her problem, it doesn’t have to be. It could be ‘our’ problem if she so wills it. The Eagles would stand by her, she has a charisma and charm to her that draws people to her. She would make a good leader one day.

He briefly wondered when he became so soft that he would start to sort of care about these kids that he knew for only two weeks, so much that he would go out of his way to reassure them and tell them that they were doing alright. It was probably around the time where rewound time itself.

Edelgard looked at him so brightly that he swore it could scare the darkness away.

“Thank you.” That was all that came out, and maybe that was all she could say. Then she said something else. “You said that you would rather do this than talk with Rhea, why is that?” She asked. Byleth moved his head around the drawbridge they had just walked onto for any would-be eavesdroppers.

“Rhea gives me the creeps.”

Edelgard chuckled.

“She’s certainly an influential woman.” She said with a small smile.

“Not that.”

Her smile vanished.

“She’s too benevolent. Being around her makes my hair stick up like she could stab me in the back and not think even once about it.” He said. Edelgard didn’t say anything back, and Byleth thought he said something wrong. He turned to look at her and was confused by what he saw.

Her smile reached from ear to ear and threatened to blind him as she looked at him.

“Was it something I said?” He asked, very, very confused.

Her smile lessened to a very small, but incredibly content one.

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is brought to you by godspeed you black emperor and brian eno. they were what kept me writing for way longer than I should. I recommend lift ur skinny fists from gybe, and the ambient series and another green world from eno. if u like ambient, classical, or rock at all, give them a shot.
> 
> I think it's goddamn crazy that it takes jeralt a whole like 3 months before showing byleth his mothers grave. So here I am projecting as I fix that in an attempt to make jeralt a little less of a bad dad. that last sentence was also projecting, but I just find it really cruel. 
> 
> just because I'm thinking about it while I look at the beginning of this chapter again, the ashen wolves are going to play an incredibly big part of this story. not so much the side story itself, but their characters in general. will I actually write their story? probably. i love their theme too much to not play it again. 
> 
> edelgard is a very, very big focus on this chapter and as she is the 'antagonist' of the game, she deserves a little bit of backstory and venting right off the bat. remember that the whole story is based around perspectives and how they change everything depending on which you hold. i aim to explore her human side and that which makes her tick a lot, so prepare for that. all three of the house leaders and a couple of other characters more influenced by the effects of the main story are going to get the same treatment, as much as I play favorites, it's not just how much I love the character correlates to how much screen time they get. maybe a little.
> 
> and in case it's not clear even though I rewrote that scene about 86 times, edelgard drew herself. i tried my best to say it, but the words might have failed me. 
> 
> sothis has somehow become my favorite character to write in the history of ever. god bless her.
> 
> if ur curious of what happens next, my notes read: 'Red canyone mfer'


	4. Red Sails

The march to the Red Canyon is not a long one. It resides not even a day's worth of travel outside of the walls of Garreg Mach, within the same mountain range in the middle of the continent that the monastery itself resides in, no less. The walk to the canyon was through the forest that Byleth had come through on his first day of joining the Knights and going in the opposite direction that Remire was in.

Despite how short the travel was to the location of bandit den, Byleth couldn’t shake this weird feeling he had. Not too long ago he told Edelgard to stop over-thinking, yet here he was.

He was less worried about if he could get these kids out alive, that he wasn’t crazy concerned about as he had spent the better part of the last two weeks strategizing about it. He and Edelgard had meticulously crafted pairings and escape routes for somewhere they didn’t know the terrain to over the past two weeks; all that worry had been shaped into a plan that he was certain would erase the worry and anxiety he felt. It did, but it only gave rise to another concern of his.

It was how these kids would react to becoming a killer.

Edelgard and definitely Hubert was most likely well past the shock and self-loathing that came with taking someone’s life for the first time. Petra and Ferdinand would take it well enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about it now if they haven’t already taken someone’s life. Caspar, too, would keep going and most likely take it as another line on his learning curve. Dorothea would be hard, she was a lover and not a fighter, she wouldn’t take it well. Linhardt, he wasn’t sure; he would either yawn it off or have a panic attack. Bernadetta… well, he didn’t know either, and it worried him that he couldn’t even guess.

The fantastic part was that he wasn’t alone in supervising these kids, Shamir had come back sooner than he had thought. She had returned three weeks after departing for the mission with the knights accompanying her. From the report she gave, they were looking for a red-headed student named Monica Ochs, the daughter of Baron Ochs, who was a student at the very school these kids were from, the Black Eagles in fact. She was set to graduate but vanished a few weeks before he had arrived. They had thought she had just returned home as her quarters were empty, but that wasn’t the case. Shamir and the knights searched a good portion of the western part of the empire, as well as the southern reaches of the kingdom, just in case. They found nothing. Not even a trail.

She had volunteered to help him supervise the children in their first taste of war. He was so grateful that it hurt.

Now, they led the way to the Red Canyon. By Byleth’s estimates, they would be there in a few short hours.

“You were a mercenary, too?” Byleth asked her. They walked side by side, the students behind forming loose groups as they chatted amongst themselves. They kept their eyes in front of them while they talked.

“Mmhm,” She hummed. “In Dagda, where I’m from. I wandered for a few years after that, then Rhea hired me. I’ve been here since.”

“Figured it was something like that. You don’t look religious.” He commented.

“Neither do you.”

Byleth made an amused hum in his throat. He looked back at the students behind him, still accounted for.

“This isn’t going to be a good day for them.” Shamir said. He looked back in front of himself.

“Yeah, I know. They won’t forget today as long as they live.”

“They’ll feel better about it because they’re killing bandits. It’s going to be hard once they kill a soldier.”

Byleth shook his head.

“I hope that’s a long time from now,” He glanced behind him again. “And I hope this is a one-time arrangement.”

Shamir made a noise of amusement. Byleth glanced at her.

“Knowing Rhea, she’ll take this as you making them invincible and make this a tradition for you.” She said. He sighed and shook his head.

“Damn. With my luck, I’d bet on it.” He shook his head again. “She’s a psychopath.”

Shamir let out a breath of laughter.

“You said it. She gets what she wants.”

* * *

“This place looks… familiar.” Sothis mumbled.

They were staring at the Red Canyon, which was not red at all. It was a normal canyon, aside from the oddly saturated dirt that held a monolithic ruin on a middle section of the space in front of them. Farther past across a bridge, he could see the lumbering form of the big guy that was leading the attack on Remire. To get there, they would need to get across a different bridge, one that leads to the ruin from before, and another that went to the side of the canyon and wrapped around the long way. Now that he was looking at the terrain he was going to get very used to over the course of the next hour or so, he felt a little better that his plan wouldn’t require any adjustments.

He counted the silhouettes of the bandits he could see from the close to where the front guards were stationed. There weren’t that many unless any were hiding, there were only a dozen or so excluding the boss man himself.

With Shamir taking four and going the long way around and himself taking the rest and going forward, this should be a breeze, experience of the kids notwithstanding. The next step was who goes with who.

He would preferably have one of Edelgard and Hubert, the other one with Shamir. Then Petra and Ferdinand with another. The four he wouldn’t know the reactions of were an archer, two mages, one of which is a healer, and whatever Caspar was. All that being said…

Byleth stood up from his crouched position from before the first bridge into the canyon. The rest of the team were waiting behind a natural rock wall as he scouted and formulated a plan. Shamir watched their six further back and came to regroup at the behest of Byleth’s waving hand.

“Here’s the gist,” He whispered. “There are two routes to the back: one across the bridge that we’ve been looking at and straight ahead another, and another to the left once we cross. We’ll split into two teams, one with me and one with Shamir.” He was expecting to have been interrupted by now, but maybe he’s done a better job training them than even he thought. He looked around at the team, looking at each member in the eye as he called their name.

“Edelgard, Petra, Linhardt, Caspar. You’re with Shamir. Hubert, Ferdinand, Dorothea, Bernadetta. You’re with me.”

He saw Hubert look to Edelgard after he said his name in another grouping, but a swift nod from the heiress turned down any possible objections from the royal retainer himself. Byleth looked at Shamir.

“You’ll take the side route, mine will go through the front.” She nodded back an acknowledgment. He scanned the group of students that have accompanied him thus far. Their faces a scattered range of emotion: confident, nervous, scared. “It’s time, everyone ready?”

A few scattered nods or words of agreement came out.

“Form up. Let’s go.”

Byleth walked out from behind the rock, his group taking their place behind him. He heard the many footfalls of Shamir’s group from behind him walk further and further away, one of them pausing for a moment before continuing onward to their goal. He had his to focus on.

“Ferdinand. Stay next to me, hold the line.”

“Yes, sir!” He said in his fanciful way. Byleth turned around. If the bandits hadn’t noticed them here, then they wouldn’t notice them until they walked two feet in front of them.

“You three stay behind us. Do not break formation.”

Bernadetta shook at his tone, but a calm hand from Dorothea gave her confidence back. Just a little.

“Hubert, fire as you will, I trust you to make the right decision.”

Hubert gave him a curt nod as he stared at Byleth in the eyes, his arms behind his back in his signature pose.

“Dorothea, focus on support.”

“Right.” She said.

“Bernadetta, whoever we can’t reach, do your best.” She didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’ll just dissapoint-.” She tried to say. Byleth got down on one knee in front of her, her head turned away and her hands started wringing each other.

“Bernie.”

Her head didn’t move, but her eyes focused on Byleth. Gone was his commandeering tone and was a gentle one he hadn’t used since… maybe never.

“You won’t disappoint anyone, least of all me. Do what you can.”

Her eyes went away again, but her head faced forward again as she nodded her acceptance.

Byleth stood up again and turned around, giving a nod to Ferdinand as he looked forward to the bridge after this one. The bandits on that bridge were waiting, and there was a job to be done.

“Let’s go.”

Byleth walked forward, students in tow. Out of the corner of his eye, he could barely see Shamir and their group starting their own fight. That was there, not here. He trusted Shamir to guide the students well enough, the focus needed to stay on what was in front of him and behind him.

There were three bandits in front of them: all three held axes, no armor. They noticed the group approach and they patted each other on the shoulder and yelled a few obscenities as they focused their attention onto the oncoming children and the really, really dumb-looking one with the jacket hanging off his shoulders.

Byleth upped his pace as he unsheathed his sword, Ferdinand matching his pace while raising his spear. Byleth felt a sharp gust of wind and an even sharper source of heat pass by his head, entering his vision as an image of dark fire that breezed by his head and hit one of the bandits square in the chest. The impact caused smoke to fly up, the body sent on the ground further away and further out of sight.

“The black-haired one with the grumpy face is certainly something.” Sothis said.

_Understatement of the century, Sothis._

Byleth kept walking towards his front, the other bandits not at all terrified after seeing their comrade in arms get nearly incinerated. The one in front of Byleth yelled something along the lines of ‘lay down and die you dope-faced idiot’ or something equally uncreative as they tried to bury their double-ax into his shoulder. The lack of refinement made him scoff.

Byleth pivoted on his front foot, turning to his side. He watched the bandit miss his swing and almost fall over as he tripped up and lost his balance. He raised his head and looked at him with a snarl as he raised his ax again, a battle cry rivaled only by the ones of old leaving his mouth.

That was the last thing that ever left it.

He slumped to the ground, knees first, then the rest as it hit the ground with a loud ‘thud’. The shaft and feather of an arrow were sticking out of his heart. If he was still alive, he had another twenty or so seconds before he wasn’t. Byleth looked up at the source: Bernadetta, her bow still raised and her drawing arm still held up after she released the arrow. Her face was completely at rest, other than her widened eyes. Byleth’s eye glanced towards Ferdinand, who was currently shoving his spear into the shoulder of the bandit and into their gut. He had it handled, it was time to handle the volatile situation to his other side.

Byleth walked toward Bernadetta and knelt down in front of her. She looked to have noticed him, and lowered her arms and arm and stared at the floor.

“You okay?” He asked, voice as soft as he could make it.

No response, but her eyes dimmed down and then closed as if drawing a curtain in front of a window. It was an odd sight, Byleth had never seen Bernie so… calm, so at peace before. She was a jittery mess of insecurities and trauma, but this? She might pass as ‘normal’, or someone’s definition of it, anyhow. She wasn’t breathing either, oddly enough. Then it came in one strong gust of air out of her mouth, if she held it she might have started to float upwards. She looked up and gave one single, resolute nod to Byleth, her stare boring into his own eyes. Byleth held it and then nodded back.

He rose to his full height and turned to look at Ferdinand. He was staring at the body with an empty face. Byleth put a hand on his shoulder, to which Ferdinand looked over and nodded that he was okay. Byleth took the message as sent and went back to his position to finish walking over the bridge and onto the mainland of the canyon.

Now that Byleth was standing in it, he felt it was less a canyon and more a plateau next to a bigger plateau. He was also bad at geography.

The ruin in the middle was a marble structure, like an old temple entrapped in a swarm of vines and nature. Oddly, there were no enemies in the middle here. The forward guards they had just dealt with were more than likely perimeter guards, and seeing as how this middle section was only accessible via bride, there was no point in patrolling it. Unless a lunatic decided to climb up to it, and he didn’t take Claude with him, so the chances were zilch.

Glancing over at the other group, he could see them taking on a greater number than they had to deal with, including reinforcements. They held a formation similar to themselves, melee upfront and ranged in the back, and were holding well. Edelgard and Petra took one bandit out with one synchronized strike, Caspar threw a handaxe into another’s face, Linhardt was focusing on healing rather than killing. Everything was going swimmingly on their end; aside from the number of enemies, but they were fine. That meant that all that Byleth had to deal with was the bandit leader himself and maybe a small honor guard. He wasn’t counting on him to be that smart, however.

Crossing another bridge onto less saturated ground, Byleth saw the big boss man himself hiding out on a small elevated piece of land. It was made in the same marble that the ruins from before and even the bridge itself was made out of. They were still a good fifty yards away from him, and his eyes were on the battle raged on Byleth’s parallel.

He glanced at Shamir’s group again, a lot more than just ‘a dozen or so’ bandits were on the field now. Where they came from was uncertain, but he shouldn’t be so careless just because they were bandits. His eyes squinted as he tried to make out the faces of his comrades, but they were much too far. He settled on looking at a much more enthusiastic bandit leader instead.

“Everyone.”

He could feel the spines on everyone straighten, except Hubert’s of course. That thing was always pointed to the sky.

“Go backup the other group, they’re starting to get overwhelmed.” He flicked his sword of any blood that may linger. “This one is mine.”

He could feel three sets of mouths start to open in protest.

“Go. Now. Take them down at a distance and divert the pressure. Stay moving.”

After a few moments of hesitation, the four students moved from behind him to help Shamir and their classmates.

He walked forward, a steady march to the source of him even being here in the first place. His eyes were locked onto his square face as it contorted on noticing the second wave of attackers on the other side. He didn’t notice Byleth until a pair of footsteps clapped onto the stone floor.

The bandit’s face contorted into anger and rage when he noticed Byleth standing there, sword in hand.

“You again! You cost me in the village, you little shit.” He snarled.

Byleth had heard better.

“What’s your name?” He asked any small hints of emotion drained into the words of someone bearing the title of Ashen Demon.

The bandit unhooked his ax from his back. This one was a bigger one than he had in Remire.

“Kostas. What’s it to you? You gonna arrest me?” Kostas mocked.

Byleth shook his head and took one step. Then another. Then another. Each step slow and with his full weight. He took a full moment before putting the other foot down. His eyes blank as they stared into a confused and increasingly nervous Kostas.

“I wanted to know who I was going to kill.”

Byleth surged, holding his sword in two hands and swinging diagonally. Kostas brought his ax handle in time to block it, the sword clipping the wood and sliding off. Byleth grabbed the ax with his free hand and pulled on it. It didn’t come out of Kostas’s hands, credit to him, but he did stumble as his arms fumbled back a little. Byleth used his sword that had in an upright swing. The bandit barely got out of the way in time, his stomach now bearing a small cut mark after getting caught by the tip of the sword. He winced, but it was better than having his guts spill on the white marble.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and taking advantage of the bandit’s recoil, he did the stupid thing and took his eyes off of Kostas and towards the students and Shamir. He had told himself time and time again that they would be fine, he had prepared them well, he had Shamir with them; any shortcomings from their age and lack of practical ability was offset by her presence. Hell, if she wasn’t here, who knows how this would be going. Probably much worse, with at least fourteen arrows in his shoulder and a few broken ribs.

As a result of taking his eyes off of his direct opponent, his opponent managed to break a couple of ribs by socking him in the gut with a meaty right.

Byleth staggered a few steps backward, hand on his midsection.

_I am so stupid._

“Maybe, but you did so out of worry. Finish what’s in front of you, then you may be free of it.” Sothis said.

Byleth pursed his lips as he raised his sword, pointing it at Kostas. Every step or swing was going to rattle his ribs like some kind of musical instrument, but it was the price he had to pay for being an idiot.

Kostas charged himself, raising his ax and threatening to bring it down to leave the Captain’s head in two different pieces. Byleth would normally roll through it, but the pain would make him hesitate, give Kostas another opportunity. He settled on the less forceful move with less a payoff, but the far safer option.

He slid his foot across the marble floor. The ax swing went right by him, but Kostas had learned his lesson and didn’t swing as hard. His eyes snapped to where Byleth had dodged and went at him again. And again, and again, and again. Byleth had no choice but to keep dodging, his counter would take too long with the way that his body was shifting from the pain in. He couldn’t take his eyes off of the bandit or else he’d take another fist to the what remained of his ribcage, or worse, a gut full of iron from an ax-head.

So, it was dance until he falls over. Ever the great planner, he was. At least his plan was keeping him alive.

To his credit, he was the one putting in the least effort in this little dance of theirs. Byleth sidestepping blows like the dance requests at a grand ball was mere copper pieces to the gold coin of effort that Kostas was putting in. His overcommitment to overcommitting ax swings had long since passed, but an ax was still an ax; far heavier and bulkier than the spear or sword, he was bound to get tired.

Yet, Kostas had been swinging for the moon on every swing and showed no sign of slowing down. Minutes had gone by and for all intents and purposes, he should be at the very least panting a little harder.

Guess this musclehead did do his cardio.

It was aggravating to Byleth, to tell truth. He did not want his entourage to see him suffer for a basic mistake, but here he was, probably going to end up taking advantage of some opening or distraction his students provided.

And as a cracking noise split the air around him, he knew that that opening was about to hit. A bolt of lightning had struck through the air and zapped the area in front of Kostas, the bigger man stumbling on his back foot for a few seconds worth as he gasped in surprise. For Byleth, this was all he needed. His weaker hand on his midsection, he dashed forward, the uncomfortable rattling and stinging of his ribs hitting his other vitals was unsettling but onward he continued to push on. He raised his sword to cut a deep wound across Kostas’s body.

The blood splattered onto his sword, his clothes, and was spurting out of his neck like a small fountain. The cut first entered skin on the left side of the bandit’s neck and down the rest of his body. He would die in around ten to fifteen minutes. It would be an uncomfortable death, and even if Byleth was a demon in name, he was a human in body.

Byleth stepped forward and gave Kostas one final look, the bandit’s sneer or display of anger gone and replaced with an odd look of peace; a look of a man that would die regretting nothing. He would have that at least. With a single drive of his sword through his chest, Byleth brought the bandit leader Kostas a fast end to a hard life.

He looked in the direction of where the lightning had surged from. There was Dorothea, who was well ahead of the rest of the students and Shamir, who were doing their own healing and regrouping. Dorothea ran up to him, a look of exaggeratively intense worry on her face.

“Are you okay?! I saw you holding your ribs and-.”

Byleth made a loud groan as he let go of his sword and gracelessly sat down on the edge of the marble ‘arena’ that he had gotten quite familiar with. His legs barely reaching the dirt, only the tips of his boots were anywhere near. Dorothea ran to him, placed herself next to him, and lifted his arm that was clutching his midsection. He winced in the form of a sharp inhale.

“Could you warn me bef-.”

“If you didn’t interrupt me I wouldn’t have.”

…

“She’s got a good point over you.” Sothis said.

Byleth hummed a frustrated hum in his throat while he felt Dorothea poke her finger around in his side. He turned his head, squinting his eyes at her.

“I don’t suppose you’re having too much fun?” He asked, half-annoyed and half-joking. To her, it would probably come out as completely the former.

“I’m seeing which ribs are broken so I can heal them, idiot.” She said, now slightly annoyed herself as her tone betrayed.

Byleth decided to stay quiet and let her do whatever talking she wanted. Did not want to poke the bear that was the bridge between him having broken ones and ribs that are as they should be. He felt the glow of healing magic on his side, his arm hanging loose over her shoulder as it kept straight and out of her way.

Healing magic had a very uncomfortable feeling. It was not too unlike having needles under your skin and twisting and turning whatever and however they please to fix the problem. The feeling of his shattered and fragmented ribs removing themselves from other parts of his core and stacking themselves on top of each other again was not something he considered even remotely pleasant. Dare he say, unpleasant; but again, best not poke the bear. Rather, it was best to reassure the bear.

“How did it go?” He asked. Dorothea’s eyes never moved and neither did his.

“Well enough. You’re the only one we’ve had to heal at all. I think Linhardt was only using up casts so that Shamir wouldn’t chew him out like you do.”

Byleth snorted a laugh through his nose.

“Sounds like him.” He moved his eyes to look at her. “How was it for you?”

Her eyes glanced at his and then back to her glowing hands.

“What do you mean?”

…

“Do you regret it?”

She stayed silent. She removed her hand from his side and took his arm off her shoulder. Her eyes never glanced at him, only to the dirt that below them.

“Of course,” She sighed through her nose. “But it had to be done. This isn’t the life I envision myself having, but if I have to do it to get the one that I want… Then I’ll do what I have to.” She said, uncharacteristically serious for her.

Byleth stared.

“What life do you want?”

“A quieter one. With a family that I love.”

Byleth stared at the floor instead.

That sounded like a common answer to that question, and yet, that was the first time he had ever heard it. Comes with the job, he guessed.

“Thank you.”

She moved her eyes from the dirt and to him, her eyebrows raised.

“Whatever for?”

“For the help.”

She smiled a little at the gesture.

“You’re welcome. I’ve got to ask, how did he even let him get the upper hand? For all you hammer into us about… Well, anything, it seems unreal for you to ever lose the advantage.”

Byleth shook his head, but a small quirk in his lips came up.

“I was a fool. I glanced at your group during the fight. Lost focus.”

“Awww, you care about us.” She teased.

“I don’t want my effort of training you going to waste by you all dying. Especially because of me.”

Dorothea scoffed.

“Yeah right. Say whatever you want, but I know it’s because the big, bad Captain of the Knights of Seiros cares about us kids.” She giggled a little before reaching her head close to his ear and whispering behind a hiding hand. “I’ll keep it our secret, just for you.”

Byleth rolled his eyes, making her giggle even harder.

Their conversation was ended prematurely, or perhaps maturely, as the rest of the group arrived, led by Shamir and Edelgard.

“You okay?” Shamir asked. Edelgard stood next to her, a small look of worry making it past her barriers.

“Fine, just a couple broken ribs. Dorothea healed them up well enough.”

“More than well enough, I’d say.” She clapped back.

“Tell that to the throbbing in my chest.” He said. She giggled.

“That would be your poor heart on seeing me, not your bones.”

Byleth rolled his eyes again, deigning to stand up rather than entertain any more of whatever Dorothea was trying. He faced Shamir who was already standing right in front of him.

“How were they? Any injured?” He asked. She shook her head.

“Nope.” She took a step forward and resumed in a volume only he could hear. “Each of them got their blade wet, they all look well enough, but I’d talk to them at camp and when we get back to the monastery.”

Byleth nodded. He was planning something of the sort already, but he still wanted to know exactly what he was getting into.

“Everyone.” He announced in his leader voice. The heads of everyone turned from their intermingled conversation and faced him. “First, good work. For some of you, this may be a day you never forget, but you did well to come out of a battle unscathed.”

He got some appreciative nods and exclamations from most of the students. Edelgard returned a smile that was her standard way of saying ‘I thank you’ or whatever else she would say in her Edelgardy way. Hubert’s face didn’t move, most likely it was because this was mere child’s play to him.

“Second. Let’s get out of here and set up camp for the night. You’re all free to whatever you wish until night, and you may sleep in come the morning. There’s nothing more to do, and the church isn’t expecting us until the night anyway.”

That got some even more appreciative gestures, even Hubert cracked a small smile at the prospect of getting a few more hours of sleep.

“Let’s go.”

Byleth took the first steps through everyone, to which everyone followed suit. The Red Canyon was soon a small blip on the horizon on both their path and in their memories.

* * *

There was a learning curve to everything: weapon styles, strategies, craftsmanship, playing an instrument, learning a sport, countless other hobbies and skills. The skill that Byleth was most accustomed to was killing. Sometimes it was called justice, other times it would be murder, rarely it would even be called mercy. Whatever it may be called, Byleth was skilled in all avenues of how it may come, how it may be used, and what happens afterward. He was skilled in inflicting death, as well as wielding it, as shown by his proficiency at leading groups of people to inflict it upon other groups of people that had the inescapable fate of being called his enemy.

Now, as the students of the Black Eagles slept in their tents in the wee small hours of the morning, he realized too that each of these bright eyed students was following in his path to becoming a killer.

Killing was not necessarily a journey with a destination. Unlike learning an instrument, where thousands of hours go into practice to being called a master, killing is slightly different. Byleth could kill a million men and he wouldn’t be called a master, he would be called other things: murderer to some, villain maybe; a hero or legend to others, too. It was never the destination that killing was called, killing was the journey, it was a way to accomplish a goal. Nations were formed, religions were formed, Independence was wrought, all with the process of people killing each other.

Undoubtedly, like many others of heroes and villains, or whatever may live in between of yore, these children would one day become just like them one day. They would use violence and murder as the torchlight that would guide them through the darkness to whatever end they may wish for themselves. Byleth had given them the first taste of it. For some, these violent days at the academy would be the only ones they would ever know; for others, this was only the beginning, and for fewer, this was nothing close to heights of evil and butchery that they’ve seen.

It was something that he’d never admit, barely even to himself, but part of his anxiety was these kids following in his footsteps; red, streaking footsteps.

Byleth was not in his tent, he hadn’t even made one. He was content with sleeping by the fire as was his preference. At present, he was standing watch, back against a tree and his arm crossed and his only companion being his own thoughts and the invading thoughts of his head-mate.

“Even if there was a small hiccup, you did well today, Byleth.” Sothis said. Byleth kept his head straight and his eyes off into the dark.

“We did.”

“Yet you are still restless.”

“It’s still not easy making a bunch of kids kill people, sanctioned by the church or otherwise.”

“Indeed,” She relented. “Yet all is well, they are unharmed physically, and they have you to help them mentally.”

Byleth stayed quiet for a moment. His blank eyes might as well have gone completely white as he stared into a horizon only lighted by the stars above.

“The scary part to me is that they might have not even needed it.”

Byleth spoke to each of the students that would need it, a guiding hand to tell them that they were doing just fine.

Ferdinand was taking it on the chin, using this ‘necessity’ as he called it as some signal of stride in his personal quest for improvement.

Dorothea had already told him how she felt, so he just asked how she was doing. She said she was fine. He believed her.

Petra said that it wasn’t the first time she had killed someone but was concerned that the feeling in her gut wouldn’t ever go away. He told her it wouldn’t. She waddled away upset.

Linhardt had gone the former in Byleth’s prediction, choosing to yawn it off and rolling to the other side in his sleep.

Caspar looked more excited than he’s ever looked in his entire life. From what Byleth could guess from him, it was that Caspar had never once felt a negative emotion in his entire life, one day it would come. Whether it would from this day or another yet to come was a story that no one could reasonably guess.

Bernadetta acted the same as she normally did, though their conversation was odd, even for one with Bernie in it.

‘How are you doing, Bernie?’

‘I’m… I’m doing fine… just fine… No need to worry about me…’

It was a loop of those two lines over and over. Bernie took a tactical retreat whenever she felt uncomfortable, which was all the time, but she didn’t run. She stood her ground, and for all his prodding, she just stayed resolute. It was something so completely out of character that with every time he asked her, the harder he had to push for the words to come out. He just gave up, eventually. It would be a topic for another day.

And of course, Hubert and Edelgard couldn’t be bothered with having killed someone. They had most likely done it so many times that like him, they were completely numb to it. Hubert may have even enjoyed it a little bit.

“Byleth?”

He bounced off the tree and held the grip of his sword as he faced the direction of where the sound of his name came from. Seeing a head of shiny white hair put him at ease as he removed the grip from his sword and put his back on the tree.

“I’m right here, Edelgard.” He said. The crunching of dead grass and leaves made their way to him, as she stood next to him. She looked up to him with her eyebrows raised, her eyes betraying some worry.

“Who were you talking to?”

He shook his head.

“Myself. It’s been a long day.” He said.

Content with that answer, Edelgard nodded once and her face placated into her normal polite smile as if she was trained to go to that look on a basis of neutrality. He felt her eyes still on him.

“I can understand that. I wasn’t expecting a lot of what happened today.”

“Assume you’ve got something in mind.” He said.

“Indeed. I wasn’t expecting our fearless and infallible captain to let himself go on the defensive.”

“Yeah, neither did I.” He heard her fumble with the straps on her cape. “You surprised me, too.”

“Oh?” He could see the faint hint of her eyes widen a slight in the moonlight.

“I didn’t think you were capable of being worried.”

Edelgard scoffed.

“And what gave you that impression of me?”

Byleth shrugged in the darkness.

“Who knows?” Before she could open her mouth to retort, he kept it flowing. “Why are you here, Edelgard? You should be sleeping.”

“And let you do stay up all night on watch with no reprieve? I think not.” She said. “Go get some rest, I will stand on guard.”

Byleth shuffled in his lean. The other reason that he didn’t set up a tent is that he didn’t want to sleep at all. He was much too antsy to get a good night’s sleep, he could at least be productive and ease some of the duties for students with a hard day only just behind them.

“No chance. You’re welcome to stay here if you want, though.” He said.

She walked around him to his right and leaned on the same tree, their shoulders close to each other.

“I can live with that.”

They stood there for a few minutes, eyes gazing on the wilderness and their minds going through their own deals. Until one of them had had enough.

“Byleth, could you humor me for a bit?” Edelgard asked. Byleth shrugged against the tree.

“I don’t see why not.”

“We’ve talked a lot since you’ve come here, but I find myself at a loss of who you really are.”

Byleth turned his head at her, eyes stunting to make out her face in the darkness. All he could see was her shining violet eyes staring in front of her.

“Ask away.”

Her question came with not even a beat after his response.

“What do you think about Crests?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make out her face. She was still facing forward, her face as neutral as could be. Any small tick was rendered hidden by the darkness.

“I find them interesting.”

“How so?”

“I find it odd how transfixed the nobility are to them. Like how their titles and land and wealth are suddenly meaningless if they don’t possess a material symbol of their ‘heroic’ blood in them.” He shook his head as he looked back toward the stars. “It’s… crass.”

“What would you find… less crass?” She asked.

“Nobility is all well and good, but it should be based on your own merit, not your ancestors.” His eyes went down to the ground he couldn’t see. “That’s how it was in the company. You rose because you were skilled at something: fighting, negotiating, sneaking. It mattered not where you came from, but where you’ve come since.”

Edelgard was silent for a moment, her lack of acknowledgment made him turn his head to look at her. Even in the darkness, he could see the content smile sitting on her case.

“That was… better put than I could have ever done.”

“Even I have my moments where I can speak like a normal person.” He shrugged. “You agree.” He stated the obvious.

“I do.”

“That sounds odd coming from a member of a royal family.”

He could feel the glare at him from his side.

“Oh? Me being a princess means I have to think like one? Would you like me in a posh dress the next time we spar?”

Byleth chuckled. Heartily chuckled. With his voice. Out loud.

“You got me. I’m a hypocrite.” He said like he didn’t just do something he barely ever did. If ever.

Edelgard’s glare turned into a thousand-yard stare. He could still feel his eyes and turned to see it.

“What?”

“I’ve never heard you laugh.”

Byleth’s eyebrows scrunched.

“I… did?” He asked.

“You did.” Edelgard said.

“You did.” Sothis said.

_Go back to sleep._

He ran a hand through his messy hair. Edelgard continued on.

“If you find something amusing, you usually just breathe out your nose. A smirk here and there.” She said like reading off a page of notes.

Byleth stayed silent as he looked into her eyes that might as well be their own dim light source.

“Edelgard, you mind if I ask you something, too?”

“Of course.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

Edelgard’s sculpted pokerface trembled momentarily and she retreated to hide it in the darkness that she was facing. He could only see her eyes looking toward the ground.

“You don’t have to answer, we aren’t close. How about I tell you my guess, and you say yes or no?”

He heard her hair scuffle against the tree’s bark in a nod. He took in and let out a big breath.

“You went through something, long ago. Something that changed you are. Your life’s goal is to prevent it from happening ever again by using your position as eventual emperor to cut the cause at the source. You know what you have to do and you are prepared to do, but it’s not a good thing that you have to do.”

He paused.

“You hate yourself that you have to do it, but it’s something you have to do, or you’d be betraying who you are.”

* * *

Edelgard had never felt so dissected, so bare, so exposed since she was placed on a table at prodded at with instruments and cut open with scalpels.

Yet here she was, with a man who had only known her for a month, knew the basis of her backstory and very motivation for wanting to rewrite the rules of the world from the ground up. It didn’t bother her that he didn’t guess the specifics, it was that he was able to make that guess at all that made her blood get colder.

“How could you even guess that?” She asked in a breathy voice, barely above a whisper.

“If you could read me close enough to be able to tell my… tells for laughing, I’m assuming you noticed I don’t show emotions.”

Her face scrunched up as she turned to look at him. He was facing the trees in front of them and the darkness they subsided in.

“I did.”

She heard him let out a breath.

“I can’t. I don’t feel emotions or show them. If I do, it’s at a fraction of how you would feel them.”

Her head tilted.

“You… can’t? At all?” She asked, exasperated.

“You want to hear something even better?” He paused. “I don’t have a heartbeat.”

…

…

“Now you’re just making fun of me.” She said, a small bit of anger popping in her words. Her eyebrows falling and a frown came to accent it.

They were replaced by wide eyes, open mouth, and raised eyebrows as he took her by the hand. Her arm reached up and was placed on his left side. She got what he was trying to do, so she played along. She went silent and focused on feeling there, but…

There was nothing. She stopped breathing, maybe her breathing was overshadowing it and he just had an irregular one or it didn’t beat as hard or…

No, none of that even made sense. Byleth didn’t have a heartbeat. How _could_ that even make sense?

“How…?” She asked, her shocked face starting to settle in.

“I don’t know. My father doesn’t know either.” He let go of her hand but it stayed there. She genuinely didn’t get it. For the second time since they met, Byleth had rendered Edelgard, heir of the Adrestian Empire, completely speechless. “I didn’t cry when I was born, either. Never have.”

“So…” She trailed off, not meaning to say anything, just fill the space somehow. They were only inches apart yet she felt like there were miles between them.

“When I was around your age, I started to get curious about emotions. What they were, what they felt like, what they were triggered by. I started to look at people's faces and try to guess what they were feeling by their expression and at some point their body language. That’s how I could make a guess at what you felt like.”

“…what did you see, exactly?”

He glanced at her.

“Anger at yourself. Hesitation. Unsure of yourself.”

…

“Most of all, fear.”

They both stayed quiet. Their gazes lingered back to the stars above. Edelgard thought of her siblings who didn’t get a chance to do anything that she would do. She thought of her father, powerless to stop any of it, even to this day. She thought of her mother that she didn’t even remember the face of, only her name that her father had told her before they came here, of how they had met.

Now, she was thinking of the man that stood next to her. The one who couldn’t feel emotion, couldn’t express it, yet understood hers so very well.

“Even Hubert couldn’t tell all that.”

Her head tilted downward.

“Hubert knows the specifics of what… happened. He’s loyal to me, he does what I tell him, gives me an ear to bounce off when I have ideas. He could never tell how it feels to be an emperor, he’s the heir to a noble house, but he has no clue the weight that’s on my shoulders.” She shook her head and let out an amused breath. “The weight of the crown and the weight of my own decisions.”

They stayed quiet. For a time.

“If I may, Edelgard.”

“Please.” It came out more desperate than it was meant to. Maybe she really was that desperate.

“I told you already that even an emperor has friends. I think you take that advice to heart. I don’t know about politics, I barely understand how any of it works, still. If you are a leader, you need people who can stand with you, even if they disagree with you from time to time, you need people with you who can guide you to the right decisions.”

“Are you speaking from experience?”

“Yes. I had my father, I had the veterans from the company who taught me when I was younger. People who would tell me if I’m on the right track.” He paused. “I understand for you it might not be so simple, but… if the weight is too much to bear, distribute it.”

Edelgard stood silent for a moment, getting to know the darkness that surrounded her legs very well as she stared down. She reflected on his words.

‘…it might not be so simple…’

‘Simple…’

She brought a hand up to her mouth. She was laughing. Why was she laughing? He was being genuine.

Then it hit her.

She was an idiot.

She held her hand in front of her mouth, for if she were to remove it the whole camp would be on alert for some raging coyote who was mocking them.

“No. No, I think it is that simple.” She said, taking her hand away from her mouth and putting it behind her back, on the tree she was leaning on.

He paused before he responded.

“Then I’m glad I could help you.”

…

“Byleth?”

“Yes?” It was more a grunt than any enunciated word.

She brought her hands from behind her to her front. She started wringing the fabric on her gloves.

“Would you be one of them? To tell me if I’m doing the right thing?”

She was being dumb again. They just got to really know each other and she was already asking the world of him. She was being vulnerable and no one wanted to see that. They wanted Edelgard, the princess; Edelgard, the emperor; Edelgard, the Crest-bearer; Edelgard the weapon.

“Sure. If you keep making me laugh like I did, I’ll do it for free.” Byleth said as if it meant nothing. To him, maybe. To her, it was the world.

“…truly?” She asked back. She heard his back scraping against the back of the tree, shrugging, most likely.

“I like you, Edelgard. I don’t see a reason to say no.”

She turned away, letting her glowing face turn toward the grass away from his line of vision.

They stood on watch, leaning on the tree for the rest of the night. Whether they spoke or stayed quiet, Edelgard was the happiest she had been in a very, very long time.

She got to be El, just for one day.

* * *

“Your report, Byleth.” Rhea said, her serene smile contrasted against her slightly commanding tone.

“The bandits are dead. The students are unharmed and resting in their rooms.” Byleth said.

“That is wonderful to hear. I always knew that the Goddess would protect you and the children.”

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t protect his ribcage, but he decided that mocking the head of a church was not the best course of action. Especially when he worked for her.

The morning after they had arrived, Byleth and Shamir stood in front of Rhea at the totally-not-a-throne-room and relayed the details of the mission. It was scary how right Jeralt had been when he said what he’d be doing wouldn’t be that much different; the only real difference being the flag above his head. The students coming along notwithstanding. That was a horse that has been beaten for weeks.

“If there’s nothing else, Rhea, I’d like to go get some sleep. I haven’t slept since the morning we left.” Rhea made a pained look at him like her child had just tripped and cut open his knee.

“Of course, child. Get your rest, we will reconvene further tomorrow.” She said in a concerned and motherly way.

Byleth brought his fist up to salute and left the room, leaving Shamir and Rhea by themselves. Closing the doors behind him, he stopped in the hallway and rubbed his eyes. They had arrived back at the monastery late last night, barely before midnight as they took their sweet time in arriving. Because of that, he had generously and stupidly offered to offload whatever equipment they had and do the requisite paperwork for them. It had him up all night and well into the morning, and he had finally met with Rhea at around noontime; so with no responsibilities on his mind, he might actually get some peaceful rest, preferably without any sort of prophetic dreams.

With the want of something to drink, he made a course to the kitchens in his mind and then wrapping around to his room. It was the long way there, sure, but when in Garreg Mach.

As he strolled, many gave him the usual greetings. They neither not noticed that he was gone at all, or his return was already old news. Many of the knights, guards, faculty, and students he wasn’t in charge of gave him ‘hellos’ or ‘how are you’s’. He returned them sluggishly.

Then there were the people that he did recognize. They were very, very talkative today.

“Captain. Spar later?” Felix barely gave him a greeting, but he was perfectly fine with his succinct manner of speech.

“Tomorrow. I need sleep.” Byleth said.

He walked away after a nod of respect.

“Byleth! I got this new book on magic and I wanted to go through it with you!” Lysithea said, way too cheery for his liking. And loud.

“Raincheck. I’m going to pass out.”

She got close to him and stared at his face, focusing on the bags that were probably adding up underneath his face.

“Of course, Byleth, I’ll wait for you.” She said, a little worry included.

Byleth gave her a quiet ‘thanks’ and kept walking.

“Captain! Boy do I have this new panty-dropper for you, you need to hear about it.” Sylvain wrapped his arm around his shoulder while he walked. Byleth gave him an unimpressed look.

“Sylvain, normally I would hit you in the head with a blunt object, but I don’t have the energy right now.”

Sylvain took his hand off his shoulder and put them both in his pockets and shrugged.

“Fair enough, fair enough. I’ll tell you about it later.” He said.

He gave a loud groan and finally made it to the mess hall after some more walking. The mess hall was full of the lunch crowd, but with the prestige he held he could cut lines if it meant he would be reunited with his bed one second sooner. His reputation breathed a heavy sigh of relief, as all the lines were centered around the buffet of food and not to the kitchen where he could borrow some boiling water for tea.

In the crowd, he spotted some familiar faces: Raphael, Ignatz, Ingrid, Dimitri; they all gave him waves of varying intensity which he returned each of them a wave of a fraction of that intensity. He shambled for a mug and a teabag and escaped to the kitchen where he spotted another familiar face right next to a screaming kettle.

“Hello, Marianne.” He said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

She jumped, almost comically, at the sound of his voice. He continued to the kettle and placed his mug and teabag on a counter next to it.

“Oh… Hello, Byleth. How was your… mission?” She asked, in her very Marianne tone. If you had to describe it in a word, the most accurate one would be ‘negative’.

“It was just fine, business as usual.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Just me. A few shattered ribs…” He paused as he lifted the kettle and poured into his cup. “But nothing that Dorothea couldn’t fix.” He could see Marianne looked momentarily stunned for a moment but then recover quickly.

“If you don’t mind me saying, all you’ll need is some bed rest and any aches should go away.” She said hesitantly.

“That’s the plan. I haven’t slept in two or three days, so…” He paused as he took a long swig from his teacup. “I’ll see you later, Marianne.” He started walking away without another word.

“Goodbye… wait, how long?!” She raised her voice as the surprise finally hit her system, but by then Byleth was already out of the kitchen and walking out the door. He heard the yell all the way there.

“She can be loud if she wants to.” Sothis said.

_Look who’s talking._

“Like this?!” Sothis screamed at the top of her lungs. If she was an actual person, he would’ve gotten tinnitus from the offended screech in his ears. He smacked his free hand against his ear, like getting rid of water out of his ears. Instead of water, it was the ringing of his own thoughts like an echo bouncing off the walls of a cave. It was an unsettling feeling. Sothis could strike well and strike hard.

He kept walking through the docks and to the greenhouse area. Glancing inside, he could see Bernadetta and Annette in there, tending to the plants and lightly conversing with each other. He was relieved that after having to do a thing like ending another human being’s life, someone like Benedetta had some moments to act like a normal teenager. It was most likely because Annette had dragged her over against her will and she must know that you cannot escape her clutches; she’s like the sun, she always finds a way in.

He really didn’t want to decline another well-meaning teenager’s request, so he skedaddled to his room post-haste. He made it into the safe confines of his room without another meet and greet with anyone else, and closed the door and locked it behind him. He downed the rest of the tea and set down on his desk, next to which he placed his jacket and armor in a bundled mess after he tore them off in a hasty manner. He threw his clothes off in the same way and replaced them with a simple tunic and pants, then finally flew onto his bed back-first.

He put his hands behind his head on his pillow, looking at the ceiling. The mid-day sun was still pouring in through the cracks of the window covers but it wasn’t enough to make him unable to rest.

Sothis manifested herself on his chair, sitting down on it with her legs together and leaning forward. She glanced around the room like she hadn’t been here thirty or so times.

“You know, I’ve never noticed it until today, but you are quite popular.” Sothis said. He glanced over at her through the corner of his eye.

“You think so?”

“I know so, you must have noticed it on our stroll around the grounds? All those greetings and requests for help.”

“Yeah, it’s just my position or my father’s status or something like that.” He shrugged. “They just want to improve.”

“You know what? I was wrong about you.”

“How so?”

“You’re worse than a boulder.”

He sat up in his bed, his arms resting on his legs. He squinted his eyes at her.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Sothis made a show of looking flabbergasted and threw her arms about.

“Are you so thickheaded that you can’t even realize when people want to talk with you? These students care no longer for your reputation, some of them actually want to get to know Byleth, not the mysterious mercenary.” She said, adding in a scoff between each sentence for added flair and to annoy Byleth as much as possible.

“With my sparkling personality?” He asked, his voice as dry as sandpaper.

“See?!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands in front of her, palms to the air. “That’s what I mean! You don’t need proper emotions to be likable. They like your sarcasm, your sense of humor, however that came about.” He placed her hands on the sides of the seat and leaned forward. “You aren’t surrounded by gruff mercenaries anymore, you are surrounded with bright-eyed teenagers who just want a friend.”

Byleth stared at her for a few moments before slumping down onto his back again, his eyes to the ceiling. He sighed.

“You know I’m not familiar with those sorts of things, Sothis. I never had friends my age. Maybe ever.”

“You do now.”

Rather than be an idiot and just blurt out something, which is exactly what Sothis wanted him to do, he took a moment to think.

Hanneman could be considered a friend, even if it came around from a purely professional standpoint and a mutual interest.

Shamir was a like-minded person and he enjoyed talking to her on the way to and from the Red Canyon.

Alois wasn’t even a question, he could be friends with a door frame and by the grace of the Goddess, somehow get invited to its wedding.

Felix had burgeoning respect for him, and it was one that he reciprocated. He admired his ability to think below the grand scheme of things and look at things on a personal level. It was a friendship of interests, but a friendship nonetheless.

Lysithea was starting to become the sister he never had. She hated being treated like a kid, but he just acted as he normally did around her, something she no doubt noticed and was more than likely the main reason that she even talked to him as much as she did.

Edelgard was the one he spent the most time with since coming here and if their conversation from the other night was anything, they were definitely friends.

Benedetta trusted him enough to not trigger a fight or flight response every time she saw him. Trust wasn’t the right word, it felt like to him. He would figure it out sooner rather than later, he thought.

Dorothea, ignoring her flirting, was sweet and kind enough to see through his walls and peak enough that the Ashen Demon could care. That alone was enough for him to like her, and she liked him. Maybe too much in a way he didn’t want it to be.

Sylvain decided that he wanted him to be his wingman and that he needed to know more about ‘how to get some bit-’… Skipping that, Sylvain was a decent kid, a bit horny, but decent still. Byleth would tell him if he thought otherwise.

Ferdinand was a sponge for knowledge and a ball of talent. Ferdinand would ask him a million questions during their classes and he respected his drive enough to accept an offer of dinner one night.

Marianne was apparently the only one in this whole monastery that knew how to care for horses, aside from him. When Marianne wasn’t being pessimistic and was excited about what she was talking about, she was a sparkling, bubbly conversationalist. She would keep talking and talking, and Byleth was only too content to let her talk as much as she wanted. That was a normal occurrence, she could talk forever about animals.

There were others: Dimitri, Claude, Annette, Mercedes, Ingrid; but it was at Marianne where he realized he spent more than a simple moment thinking about any friends he’s made since coming here. Sothis was looking at him with a smug smile, her chin resting on her hand. He sighed.

“Okay, you got me. I do have friends.”

Friends…

Huh.

This feeling was new.

“That would be called ‘happiness’, Byleth. That’s what you’re feeling.”

“Huh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet u didn't think this whole chapter would just be exposition did ya? 
> 
> bernie stuff in this is gonna be touched on later on, big truss.
> 
> dorothea is a fun character as she has two directly conflicting motivations: her desire to live a comfortable life and her desire to fight so that whoever she cares about are taken care of.
> 
> in game when everyone gets their first kill, everyone's basically reenacting all the colosseum scenes from gladiator, except linhardt who is actually disgusted at what he's done. I know that it's more the blood part that freaks him out and we'll deal with that another time. i just thought it was funny that everyone was running around doing their best russell crowe impression.
> 
> and byleth gets some love for his still heart :,)
> 
> that's all I got. I'm gonna bang my head against my keyboard while I finish my classes.


	5. Move On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that it gets very in-depth with the violence at the end, in case that freaks anyone out.

‘Garreg Mach was not meant to be a symbol of the Goddess, a shining beacon of hope that any and all peoples may flock toward in their hour of need. It was not a place that would never discriminate against you based on where you are from, what you do, what Crest you may or may not bear. It was not a place that gives shelter to the weak, guidance to the blind, or hopes to the hopeless. No, Byleth had seen too many structures, studied too much to have such a blind view because this was under the veil of religious belief.’

‘Garreg Mach was a statement, a dare; that if you should dare challenge that the church of Seiros wasn’t the power that you should be kneeling under, you would dare invoke its wrath. Not the Adrestian Empire and its long legacy of strong and powerful rulers. Not the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and its never-ending sense of pride and no matter how many times they’ve been kicked down, they get back up. Not the Leicester Alliance and its many noble houses and great leaders and no end of strategists.’

‘None of them matter in the eyes of Seiros, and you may face her knight’s wrath should you dare and try to rise above them.’

The very first thoughts Byleth had upon seeing Garreg Mach. Ones that still held true even if he was not only employed by them, but also an important member of the church itself. He cared not for the religion, but it was home, for now.

Now as he marched onward toward the site of the Western Church that he had sent scouts to two months earlier, he heard the echos of his mind upon first gazing upon Garreg Mach.

The Western Church had dared to raise its hand against the archbishop. The Western Church had dared to call the archbishop wrong. The Western Church had dared to believe that it had any authority, any authority at all to think for its own. Now the Knights of Seiros marched to bring them the Goddess’s judgment, the very same Goddess that the western branch served as well. The very deity that they revered was striking them down while they were doing all they did in her name. All was because Lady Rhea said so.

Such was the way of the Church of Seiros.

Rhea had attempted to bring another group of students with him. This time, he was really not having it. She brought up the knights that were alongside as an escort; a dozen that he had chose. She brought up his supervision. She brought up that Catherine would be another pair of eyes on them, which was not something that inspired confidence in Byleth. He stood his ground this time, and she respected it.

So why were members of the Officer’s academy with him?

The leader of the uprising was a lord by the name of Lonato. Lonato happened to be the adoptive father of Ashe from the Blue Lions. Ashe heard about the mission from a passing knight and rushed Byleth down the next time he saw him, he had a duty to try and turn his father away from the death he was about to face. If not, it was a duty for his son to bring the one that gave him a new life a fitting end to an old one. Ashe cared about Lonato, as more than a father in some ways, he was a hero. Byleth couldn’t turn the boy away, he might not agree with the chivalrous and dutious manner that he brought it up, but every son deserves to say goodbye to their parent.

Jeralt had given him the okay to take Ashe and originally, he was the only exception that he was going to make. His father had taken the rest of the Blue Lions to their assignment for the month, which he called ‘glorified guard duty’. He took it on the chin and said it would give him some drinking time and the student’s some ‘valuable learning experience’. In Jeralt, that meant the students could do whatever they wanted it. With that group, nothing would go wrong. Even Sylvain wouldn’t be able to cause a ruckus with how tight the leash Ingrid has on him.

The Black Eagles had left on their own assignment, and no way in hell was he going to take the same class out to a battlefield two months in a row, Edelgard’s protest and reassurances be damned.

That left the Golden Deer. Byleth had an odd relationship with them. He really liked some of them: Claude, Lysithea, Marianne, Hilda, Raphael; it was just that there were some others that he didn’t really mesh well with. Others like Lorenz and Leonie, it wasn’t that he didn’t like them, it was that he didn’t like them at all. Lorenz was a typical arrogant noble that was impossible to deal with, and Leonie was constantly trying to get into his father’s pants.

“Good luck with that.” Sothis said.

_Thank you, Sothis. It was sarcasm._

Claude, of course, had discovered his mission and decided that he wanted in. For what reason, only the man himself knows, but he offered some backup in the form of whoever Byleth wanted in his class. Byleth said Lysithea and Marianne, Goddess knows he could use some mages in a wall of knights and whatever Catherine was. Hanneman was unfazed with him borrowing a couple of kids, and Byleth was almost positive he didn’t even remember it when he woke up this morning. Byleth got him while he was doing his research and gave him the vocal equivalent to a hand wave.

There was the stage with Byleth, a dozen knights, and his teenage entourage as they marched along the border between the empire and kingdom. In fact, this was the very situation he had sent Catherine to monitor. His contingency was to react only if he heard the news but he never did, all was quiet on the western front as it were. Byleth couldn’t exactly say he was comfortable with Catherine leading, that would be an understatement, rather he was sure that the woman wouldn’t cause a war between the two largest forces on the continent by complete accident.

He looked to his left as they walked along a forest trail. The midday sun bleeding in through the trees and was reminding him of another day in recent memory. It was a picturesque vision of his day approaching Garreg Mach for the first time. His thoughts on the sight and scale of the monastery considered, it didn’t shock him at all that the sight of this day was an echo of that one.

Directly to his side was Ashe. He had his head down, his eyebrows down, his eyes down, his whole face was just down. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that his mood was down, too. In the next day or two, his father would be dead. Possibly by his own hand.

“Ashe.” Byleth said. Ashe shook violently as he was pulled out of dreamland. He faced Byleth with a smile that was more like him.

“Byleth. Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”

“I know. It’s going to be hard.”

Ashe stayed silent.

“Byleth?”

Byleth made a grunt of acknowledgment.

“Have you ever had to kill someone you care about?” Ashe asked.

The words made Byleth head swivel in sensations of long past: screams, flesh being cut, the snap of bowstrings, the crackling of the fire, a roar of an ungodly creature.

The tears.

He shook his head and kept his eyes on the path ahead.

“No.” He said.

It was a lie.

Ashe’s defeated look came back. It didn’t deserve to stay.

“Ashe. Listen.” Byleth kept his eyes to the front, not wanting to look at Ashe. It would hurt even his still heart. He didn’t wait for a response before he continued. “I won’t let you kill him. He was a father to you, and as far as I know, he didn’t do anything besides renouncing the church that we live at.” He closed his eyes and kept his stride. “If you want to see him, talk to him, one last time. I’ll cut a path for you.”

“Really? You would?” Ashe asked.

“I would. There’s just one thing you should remember. If he’s doing something this… mad, then he’s made his peace, he might not have qualms of killing you.” Byleth turned his head to Ashe. “If I let you go fight him, could you do it? Would you hesitate?”

Ashe looked to the ground in front of him as he walked. The words that he wanted to say were already in the air, there was no need to vocalize them. It would only twist the knife that lay in his chest even more.

“You’re saying that… that it’s too late to say… goodbye.” He mumbled to the dirt road under him.

Byleth reached his hand to grab at his shoulder and held him like that. It was how his father how told him that he was doing okay, many moons ago, and it was the only way that the man with no emotions could truly express sympathy. Ashe looked ajar at the touch and stayed stiff.

“This isn’t going to make you feel any better, but it’s something you have to hear.” Byleth matched Ashe in looking at the ground in front of them. He sighed. “War is unfair, I’m sure you know. Your father is more than just a father to you, he’s a hero, but sometimes war pits you against someone you don’t want to fight. They stand for something that opposes what you are fighting for. You have to make a choice: do you stand for what you believe in, or do you stand with someone you care about but care not for what they believe in?”

Ashe stayed quiet for a few moments as he pondered on Byleth’s words.

“I have to choose between the man who saved my life and my own future?” His face fell even more than it was since they began their march. “That’s so cruel.”

“It is.” Byleth nodded back.

Ashe fell quiet once more.

“He saved my life.” He shook his head. “I broke into his house to steal valuables to keep my brother and sister happy. I was so entranced by a book that he caught me.” He gave one dry chuckle. “I didn’t even know how to read. He took me in and my siblings, and even sent me to the Officers Academy, when I’m just a commoner, to make a life for myself.”

He raised his head straight for the first time since they left the walls of Garreg Mach. He didn’t meet Byleth’s eyes, rather the winding road ahead of him.

“I can’t kill him, I could never.” He turned to return Byleth’s eyes, finally making eye contact. “I’ll make him proud, I’ll stand on my own so that I could give the kindness he gave me to others.”

The corner of Byleth’s lips ticked up at the determination that Ashe showed. He didn’t know them all very well, but this may be the first time that any of the students at the entire academy had decided to do something for themselves, by themselves. Byleth didn’t want to take any credit in Ashe’s decision, this was one that he deserved; no, needed to have under his own name. He let go of the boy’s shoulder and let it fall to his side. Ashe looked back to the path in front of him and kept it raised.

“The boy’s day will be arduous, but I believe you may have made it bearable for him,” Sothis said.

_I hope so. I hope I didn’t sound too much like an asshole._

Sothis chuckled.

“If an ‘asshole’ is someone who gave good advice, then an ‘asshole’ you are.” She said, unaware of the profanity she was flinging about.

_Can’t you read my mind? How do you not know what that means?_

“I prefer to give you privacy. I am sure it is what you would do if our positions were reversed.”

Byleth didn’t know about that one.

“…I stand corrected, then.” She paused for a few moments. “Ah… That is what that word means.” She laughed. “No, you were kind to the boy, but to me, you are quite the a-.”

_Go back to sleep. Please._

* * *

Lonato’s body lay a bloody mess on the grass beneath him. His armor rose and fell with his breathing, blood dripping from his pauldrons in rhythm with his chest movements. His horse scattered some time ago from the thunder that manifested out of Catherine’s Thunderbrand. He lay flat on the ground, crimson beginning to stain the grass around him.

Byleth couldn’t regret ending his life, but he did feel something as he gazed at the life fleeing an old man’s body.

It started up as he saw Ashe rushed his adoptive father’s form as soon as the fighting had ended. Ashe ran up and knelt, holding Lonato’s gauntleted hand. He smiled at his son when he felt the touch.

Byleth heard footsteps from behind him: three light ones. It didn’t take much to guess.

“I feel bad for him,” Claude gravely said. “It’s never easy to lose someone you care about, much less your adoptive father.”

The three Deer strolled next to Byleth who had his arms crossed as he looked at the private conversation. The rattling of plate armor and the occasional curse scattered around him as the remainder of the Western Church’s forces were placed under arrest. They would be executed later in the eyes of the Goddess, or whatever Rhea decided to label it with when their time came.

“It isn’t.” Lysithea mumbled. He could hear her stomach queezing.

Marianne said nothing, only holding her hands up in prayer to support her classmate in his trying time.

“You think he’s gonna make it out of this okay, Cap’?” Claude asked.

Byleth looked at Ashe in the distance as the boy held his father’s head up and nodded back something that he had said. He wasn’t crying, he was saying goodbye. It would be okay to cry. Ashe didn’t regret anything, and neither did Lonato.

“He’s going to be just fine.” Byleth said and turned around. “Give the kid some privacy, will you three?” He walked away from the three students, wanting to talk with someone else important.

The fog that they had fought in was still hanging heavily upon the forest. The verdant green of the grass and the occasional leaves from a tree was the only thing that was visible as Byleth patrolled the area. He was looking for Catherine, and if he kept his eyes and ears open for a few moments longer than a second, he would get a sign of her whereabouts soon. He heard her jovial voice not too far from where he was. He followed the trail and was face-to-face with her after not too long.

“Catherine.” He said. Catherine’s body snapped to face him. Her face looked as happy as she ever was.

“Captain! What a fight! You took down the old man like he was nothing!” She beamed, grin so large that it was shrinking her eyes to make room for her teeth to bare. An insensitive way to put it, but with Ashe out of earshot, he wouldn’t bother correcting her. He shrugged.

“I just did what I had to. How’re the men?”

“Everyone accounted for. Aside from a couple of minor injuries, everyone is good to go home.”

Huh. Maybe she was a better leader than he had her pinned as. He’d write that down when he got a moment. He nodded.

“Good. Keep the prisoners under watch, we’ll get some rest and go back home in the morning.” His eyes twitched to where Ashe was kneeling, his head lowered mournfully. Byleth frowned. “Do not move Lonato’s body until Ashe has moved.” He spoke the last command with more steel than the rest.

Catherine looked confused by his words. Her hands went to her hips.

“Why’s that? We should round him as soon as we can to keep him fresh.” Catherine said as if it was as natural as saying her name. Byleth’s frowned deepened.

“The boy’s father is dead, Catherine.” He said and walked past her to the road. He needed to find a space to camp. Maybe vent, too.

If Catherine reacted, he didn’t stay to hear it. He kept walking through the fog until he found himself at the road once more. They were ambushed here, the tracks of men, horse, and cart were staggered on the dirt road and led to the forest the way he had just come. It was the only way that Lonato had hope of winning the battle. Lonato’s uprising was hopeless the moment he decided that he would oppose Rhea. It wasn’t the end-goal that he was aiming for, it was simply the ideal, that it would be better to die for what you believed in than live in something you hate.

He had mixed feelings about things like a death that accomplished nothing. Lonato could’ve stayed alive and been part of something greater, accomplished actual goals. Perhaps his death had accomplished something that he didn’t know about, and it was the only way to do so. He may never know.

Byleth crossed the road and entered another dense area of trees and fog. The fog was so thick it may register as something on a scale. It was no small wonder that they had fought in this fog, won, and got away with no more than scrapes and bruises. A lot of it had to do with Lysithea and Marianne being the best at what they do and clearing a visible path for him to cut the head off the snake before it bit everyone. They were becoming his two favorite students in that academy.

He kept walking.

“What are you walking so quickly for?” Sothis said.

Byleth stopped in his tracks. He turned around and no longer recognized his surroundings, the only evidence that he was walking being the press in the grass behind him. The wind uncurled them back to their standing position, leaving his body as the only evidence that he was truly there.

_Was I really walking that fast?_

Sothis made a ‘phtooy’ sound.

“Even faster, if one could believe it. It was as if you were running from something.”

Byleth let out an amused breath through his mouth. The irony.

_Maybe I was._

Sothis made a low hum. Byleth began to walk again, at a strolling pace this time. He strolled through the forest for a few minutes before the voice in his head started up again.

“It is what happened to the grey-haired boy, is it not?” Her voice was softer than it usually was. More befitting of ‘girl’ than ‘gremlin’.

_It is._

…

“It started when he asked if you had ever… harmed someone you cared about, didn’t it?”

Byleth couldn’t stop the thought that that guess was much too on the mark from flooding his head.

“I… I saw the images that came when he said that. I did not wish to pry at your privacy or your memories, so I stayed silent.”

…

_Sometimes I forget that we share the same brain._

“It’s much more involved than that, but it is not so different from the truth.”

They both stayed silent as Byleth continued to walk the grass. The crunching of his footfalls on dead leaves and grass and the blowing of wind shaking the trees were the only things audible to the two minds that shared a body.

_I want to tell someone, but I don’t think I can bear to remember it all._

Sothis stayed silent for a moment.

“Would you permit me to look at your memories, then? I promise I will only look at what you show me.”

Byleth lowered his head, watching his boots move across the dark green ground. His mind blanked out as the memories of a life he had since left broke the dam of his memories and flooded his mind.

The screams of the past that still haunted him. The snaps of bowstrings long since released. The swishes of sword swings cutting through the air and into flesh. The screams of the helpless as their loved one's lives were lost in front of their very eyes, their very own witnessing their last moments. Through his own mind, his own eyes, he remembered the events of that night like it was yesterday: the demonic roars, the ground quaking beneath the very weight of what fell, his arms twisting as he twisted his sword into flesh.

The life in their body leaving this world as he held them.

Byleth raised his head again and stopped walking. He came across an empty space of land: flat, mostly dirt, small patches of grass. It would work well for a campsite for the night. It would be quick work to set up and even quicker to take down. Byleth didn’t want to have the body of one of the students lay unburied for long. He figured Rhea would want his body to make an example of, but this was one of the things he was ready to fight over. The body of the departed did not deserve to be shown as an example, no matter what they did in life; they deserved the peace of someone who has done their time in this world and laid to rest properly. Ashe would get the body.

“I’m so sorry, Byleth.” Sothis whispered, he could feel her trembling eyes within his own skull. Her emotions were starting to leak into his.

“It happened a long time ago. I was only a child.” He said out loud, a whisper to himself.

“A child you were, but something no child should have to do. I see now why you so vehemently dislike bringing the students with you.”

Byleth didn’t respond. He felt there was nothing to say.

…

There was someone around that may have wanted to, however.

Of the three footsteps he heard as the students approached. They were all light, but two of them were natural in their movements: their stride was steady, rhythmic. There was a third step that was light from habit: coming from training to follow someone, mask their own step by being able to stop their actions at the drop of a hat. Of those three students that were behind him, only one of them struck him as someone who was experienced in trailing someone.

“Come out, Claude.”

More rustling from behind a tree, and the house leader of the Golden Deer walked around a tree, hands raised.

“Damn, Cap’. How’d you know it was me?” He asked, defeated. Byleth shook his head and sighed just as defeated.

“Out of anyone here, you are the only one that would follow me.”

Claude chuckled a breath out, content with that answer.

“I heard you muttering to yourself. Something on your mind?” He asked. Byleth turned around completely to face him, he was barely visible through the fog. Byleth raised a hand and let fire rise out of it. The heat made the fog split just enough to let him see Claude in his full form. He let his hand return to his side once he was satisfied with the vision.

“Nothing important.”

“A bad lie.” Sothis commented. His face didn’t move at her call out.

“What are you following me for, Claude?” He asked. Claude crossed his arms and his face fell into a serious look. For Claude, anyhow.

“I saw you talk to Catherine and storm off. She looked completely devastated once you skedaddled, and I told her I would make sure you were okay.” His trademark smirked graced his face. “What a heart-breaker you are.” He said in such an odd way that Byleth couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. His face didn’t move once his smirk came to it, but it never made Byleth feel any reassured when he looked happy. He knew he was faking it from the day they met.

Byleth sighed out the weight he’s been feeling since he walked across that dirt path.

“We should go back. We’ll make camp here, the trees are split wide enough to get the carts through the woods.”

Byleth walked toward Claude and past him, not bothering to see if he followed or not.

Claude’s footsteps were treading heavily as they walked back to the battlefield.

* * *

Another mission, another sleepless night. Another sleepless night, another night watch.

Whether it was because of him being around people his own age, Sothis’s influence, or not being around gruff men as much anymore, Byleth’s emotions were growing. The range that he felt was getting bigger by the day and while compared to some of the people around him he was still a dead man walking, to him it was an intense wave every time he felt something. One day it might be enough to crack the stone mask that was his face.

For now, it was only giving him restless nights.

Sadness, happiness, regret, anxiety, he never felt them before coming to Garreg Mach; all he had ever felt before was anger, and only once: regret. They were things that he had once dreamed of having one day so that the other kids could stop making weird faces when he came around or excuses to leave. Maybe it was a bad wish, as it was the only thing separating him from sleep.

So, like only a month ago, Byleth had chosen to take the whole shift of watch duty for the camp and let them get the rest that was evading him. He was leaning on a tree, his arms crossed, and his eyes plastered to the skyline that held trees illuminated only by the light of the moon.

And just like a month ago, someone came to join him.

“Hey, Cap’.” Claude’s voice emerged from the darkness. Byleth hadn’t even noticed his approach.

“You should go to sleep, Claude.” He said. Claude smiled and breathed an air of amusement through his nose. Unlike the night with Edelgard, the moon was hanging high and bright enough to let him see his junior’s face next to him.

“Can’t. You can’t either, otherwise, you wouldn’t be working the whole graveyard shift.”

Byleth let out his own breath of amusement.

“You got me.”

They both stayed silent. The only noise came from Claude’s ruffled movements to lean on another tree and fell down to the ground, sitting on the grass.

“’ I’m sure there’s something on your mind, Claude, something that you want to know. Ask away.”

He heard Claude smack his lips below him and let out a wide-mouthed breath.

“Man, you read me like a book.” He shook his head. “Okay, listen. There’s been something on my mind.” He tilted his head to look at Byleth’s face through the side of his eye, his mouth turning to an amused smirk. “How come you spent so much time with Edelgard, you up-.”

“You’re stalling.” Byleth interrupted.

Claude’s smirk fell and his head tilted back down. He stared at the grass but kept his head straight. The light wasn’t bright enough to see whatever laid on his face.

“What’s your deal?” He asked, whatever inflection that said he was having a good time was gone.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“A mercenary, only a few years older than us, is the Captain of the Knights. He is the son of the legendary Jeralt, former captain and now a teacher. I wouldn’t say that you two are unqualified, that would be a lie. You two came out of nowhere and took two of the most powerful positions in the church’s structure in less than a day. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you two are planning something with Rhea.” He let out a breath through his nose. “Am I close?”

“No.”

“Mind telling me where I missed?”

“That my father and I are anywhere as close to Rhea as you think.”

Claude’s head turned to Byleth, his attention and curiosity piquing.

“That’s interesting. I figured that you were involved seeing as how perfect this all lined up.” He raised one hand, palm up. “The old Captain is too decrepit to do anything, so replacement. Makes sense.” He raised his opposite hand in the same way. “New professor runs off, and is replaced with Jeralt Eisner? After he hasn’t been seen for twenty years? And his son is the new Captain?” He crossed his arms. “Maybe it’s Gramps rubbing off on me too much, but this whole thing smells to me.”

Hm. That’s not the worst hunch Byleth’s ever heard of. It’s not too off the wall, it would be a believable plan, if not for one thing.

“You’re just paranoid.” Byleth said.

Claude quickly glared at Byleth.

“What do you think we would be planning with Rhea?” Byleth asked.

Claude shrugged.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you would be an easier task than your old man. He kinda scares me.”

“Think about that for a second.”

“’Bout what?”

“You had a suspicion on someone. Fine, but you don’t even think about what it could be? What goals do you think me and my father share with Rhea?”

Claude kept his eyes on the trees as he thought. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with anything remotely resembling logical, let alone plausible. His head dipped down with his eyes following. Closing his eyes and shaking his heads, he rattled any leftover thoughts in his skull before giving out one of his signature chuckles.

“Damn, you got me again. I didn’t think this one through.”

“I think you thought too much.”

Claude tilted his head, ear reaching towards Byleth.

“What gives you that impression?”

“You were probably thinking too much on the ‘what’ and not any on the ‘why’. I had the same problem when my father first taught me tracking.”

Claude stayed quiet for a moment. Then he started laughing, giving his knee a good slap. Byleth’s mouth turned to a small smirk of amusement at the sight, the side that Claude couldn’t see, of course.

It was so very Claude; thinking you have a grand elaborate plan to catch a spy in the midst of a grand plot, only to have the very spy call you out for shoddy planning.

Claude didn’t say anything after recovering from his small laughing fit, they stayed silent. Byleth was sure that wasn’t the end to Claude’s questions and tribulations, however. He decided it best to just get it over with.

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Claude shook his head, his hair ruffling the tree’s bark that it was leaning on.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Byleth asked.

A moment of silence.

“..yep.”

Byleth said nothing.

“It seems we’ll have to wait longer still for the boy’s true… well, everything to surface.” Sothis said.

_Yeah…_

Claude was always so happy-go-lucky. Always joking, always laughing, always looking like he was having such a great time.

He wasn’t.

He was a kid that was going to be thrust into a role that he may not be ready for, as cunning and conniving and clever that he may be. Byleth and Sothis' first impression was that Claude was putting on a grand mask that the world at large would have trouble seeing the cracks that lay on the surface. Most of the people he was around every day would be challenged to see them. Byleth wasn’t most people. Glancing at Claude, Byleth could see him within his own mental-space, his head angled downward and his arms resting on his knees.

“Captain!”

Whatever mental state they were in, they were turned to an alert one as the sound of a knight’s footsteps and voice shook the very leaves on the trees. His platemail bobbled as he ran through the forest to his position. His general one, anyway.

“What is it?” Byleth raised his voice to give the guy a little help in locating him.

The knight got closer, his head lacking a helmet and carrying a torch in hand. Stopping in front of Byleth, he recognized him as a normal knight by the name of Jonsai. He was a volunteer for the mission, crediting it to not going on missions very often under the previous leadership.

“Captain! We’ve been moving Lonato’s body and prepping him for transport, but…” He trailed off.

“Well?” Byleth asked.

“Well, it would be easier to see for yourself.”

He held out a single sheet of folded paper. Byleth took it and unfolded it, the writing barely legible in the moonlight. He raised his hand to flick a fire spell to give some light to read, but the knight moved his torch closer to his captain. He began to read.

…

“This does not bode well.” Sothis said.

_No, not even close._

The rebellion wasn’t Lonato’s decision at all, in fact, it was to serve as a stepping stone for something far greater.

The note had no signature, just an odd symbol of a circle surrounded by a weird pattern in place of it.

Most concerning of all were the mentions of assassinating Rhea.

Byleth put the letter down to his side and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Only in the middle of the night could this possibly come up. If the first and third components of the letter had any relation to each other, then they were exactly where the sender wanted them to be: days away from the monastery, the only one possibly competent enough to defend her being… Hanneman? The rest of his Holy Knights were on missions, and the rest of the army was little more than a bloated stable of minutemen, except it took a week to form up to full strength. He had maybe five hundred knights on standby at the monastery, and that was being generous.

This is what I get for thinking the church could be less intimidating.

“Your heart was in the right place, Byleth. Now you have to be in the right place. We need to move. Quickly.” Sothis said. Byleth nodded without realizing it.

“Mobilize the camp, lay any wounded on mounts or carts if they’re not fit to walk. We need to be at Garreg Mach, now.” The knight nodded at him, and Byleth marched with a purpose back to the camp. He would need to help to get the group ready to move within the hour, the late hour.

His footsteps fell heavy and with a purpose, but from behind him, he could hear Claude following him. His footsteps were just a little bit lighter than he remembered.

* * *

“Byleth, what’s the big idea? It’s past midnight and we’re moving and you still haven’t said a word.” Lysithea said, walking in rhythm with Byleth.

She was right, he had been completely silent since he shook everyone awake and packed things up like a man possessed. Technically he was, but that wasn’t the point. The light of the moon and their torches were the only light sources as they walked a dirt road along the border of the empire and kingdom.

His mind was racing with the possibilities of what might await him once he got back home. Would the monastery be a crater? Occupied? Besieged? He couldn’t say, but if they were attacking after drawing him away, then the best fighters that were available to defend them were Hanneman, Seteth, and maybe Edelgard and Hubert, if they weren’t still on missions of their own. Backing up them were a couple of hundred knights, combined with a well-fortified position and a sizable stockpile of provisions meant they were in decent shape to handle a siege that simply cut off routes in and out. The only deciding factor in a siege would be the size of an invading force. They could hold out in time for his return for maybe a week if it was maybe… three thousand, and that was pushing it. Five thousand? The monastery would fall by the time the sun rose.

“Byleth!” Lysithea grabbed onto his arm and shook him, physically and his head out of his thoughts. He looked down at her while he kept his stride. Her face wasn’t one of her normal annoyed expressions, but one of concern.

“Sorry, I’m overthinking.” He admitted. After telling countless students during his classes and a few of his own knights to calm down, here he was, overthinking and over-worrying. He shook his head.

“It’s fine, just… tell me what’s wrong.”

He bit his lip.

“Lonato had a letter on him, without a signature. It mentioned this rebellion as a setup and a plot on Rhea’s life.”

“Goddess!” Lysithea alarmed without missing a beat. “I can see why you would be overthinking.”

“Yeah.”

That was all he could say, really.

“How about we think about it logically?” Lysithea said.

He glanced at Lysithea, who was staring at him expectantly as she walked. He breathed through his nose.

“I’m thinking about if the setup this was for is to launch an assault on Garreg Mach. I know that there are enough men and stockpiles that they could last a while for if they were besieged, they couldn’t fight back, but they could hold for a week, maybe a month. If invading forces attack and try to overwhelm, the monastery is defensible enough that they would be funneling into chokepoints. With a big enough force, they could just run in but at the cost of a lot of lives.”

That was the gist of Byleth’s thoughts. Lysithea stayed silent for a moment.

“You’ve certainly stayed on the topic in your head.” She commented. She wasn’t trying to be snarky, he thought, that wasn’t her. That was sincere.

“It’s my job.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” She said.

Byleth turned his head to look at her again, moving the hair out of his eyes from how fast his neck snapped to her direction.

“I’m not versed in matters of warfare, much less tactics, but you’ve given me no reason to be nervous except for if it’s a worst-case scenario. Which is, again, a worst-case scenario. It’s unlikely. You need to stay calm, you’re no use to anyone if you’re just thinking about hypotheticals.”

Byleth blinked.

Byleth blinked again.

“How is it that these children are smarter than you?” Sothis said, her words just radiating smugness.

_Probably because you’re sucking out my brainpower._

_And Lysithea isn’t just a normal teenager._

Byleth felt his mouth twitching, and twitching, and twitching. His flat line of lips turning upwards to a smile that would be considered ‘mild’ from normal people, but for Byleth he might as well be grinning from ear-to-ear. He turned away before she could see it back to his front.

He brought up his hand and decided to try his luck.

He placed on Lysithea’s hair and gave it a good ruffle.

Her neck went rigid at his contact. He could feel the rising heat of her irate anger from up her head and through his gloved hand. Perhaps if he kept his hand there for awhile more it would’ve been burned, but it was not something he wanted to try, nor did he want her annoyance to stick to him.

“Sometimes, Lysithea, you might be the smartest person on the continent.” He said with a soft voice. He took his hand off her hair, which she patted down once his presence left her head.

“Only sometimes? Who could possibly be more intelligent than I?” Her voice wasn’t filled with as much venom as he thought it would be. He shrugged.

“Don’t know, you’d have to ask around.”

She finished patting down any standing locks of hair and turned to look at Byleth. Fortunately for him, his rare burst of emotion had vanished.

“Thank you for the… compliment?” She said, the end of her sentence rising in pitch. “Could you not do that, though? I get enough of the teasing from Claude.”

He looked back at her. She didn’t look annoyed at all, just like her normal self. Whether that meant he had a pass to do that again remained to be seen.

“Sorry. It’s just-.” He cut himself off. He almost said too much. Unfortunately for him, his luck had run out, and Lysithea was not dumb nor complacent enough to let that slip pass by.

“Just… what?” She asked, genuine curiosity coming to her voice. It was the same voice from when she would ask a question about a spell mechanic or if there was a technique he knew that she wanted to know.

Byleth pursed his lips and looked to the dirt road that he had been stepping on. He wanted to mention it, he wanted to talk about it. The only people who knew what happened were Jeralt and the other resident of his body.

He couldn’t, some things should stay buried.

“You remind me of someone I use to know.” He said flatly and low. Lyithea’s head tilted so far it might fall off.

“Who’s that?”

…

“My… an old… friend.” He managed to get out, a small battle inside of him just to pronounce those words.

“Oh? Who was this friend?”

“The only friend I had my age. Maybe ever had. I’m not exactly a ‘people person’.” He said at a normal level for him.

Lysithea smiled.

“And what reminds of them?”

“You’re stubborn, dedicated, and hate being treated like a kid.”

Lysithea crossed her arms and dropped her smile.

“I don’t know whether to blush or slap you.” She said, turning her head away.

Byleth was amused. She was always tried so hard to act grown-up that it made her look even younger. Being the youngest in the academy was a blessing and a curse to her, she would have a long and accomplished life.

“Take it as a compliment.”

Lysithea softly smiled and uncrossed her arms.

“Then I shall do that.” She said, her head turning back to face in front of her.

Then she asked the question that Byleth had been hoping she wouldn’t ask.

“Who was your friend?”

He stared in front of him. He didn’t know how to stall, he was a bad liar, maybe, he didn’t have to do it enough to take confidence in that.

“Sh-.”

As he opened his mouth, he heard a grunt, and an unbelievable pain went through his head. The pain concentrated in his forehead and the bridge of his nose and made him grit his teeth and groan. He held his hand in front of his face. It was persistent, his reaction and action were in response to how out of the blue it was. Lysithea looked perturbed.

“Byleth! Are you alright?” She asked, closing the distance between them as she laid a hand on his sleeve.

He removed his hand from his face, his eyebrows furrowed together as if concentrating. He nodded.

“I’m fine.”

_Thank you, Sothis._

“No need to thank me, but do it more often and we can call it even.”

_Sure, just don’t try and knock me out if there’s a next time. That hurt._

“It was the point to make it hurt, but I will try my best.”

He sighed and let his face return to normal. Glancing at Lysithea, he could see the worry on her face plastered on her face plain as day. He raised his hand to pat her head again, but remembering what he said a few minutes ago, he settled with patting her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Lyisthea, really. Just a headache.”

Her worried look faded away, but she did not separate the distance between them. She stayed close.

“Let me know if it happens again. I don’t know a ton of healing magic, but I could help.”

Byleth smirked.

“You’re a good kid.”

She scoffed at that.

“Don’t call me that. I would rather you pat my head.”

“Is that your permission?”

She glared at him with a pout.

“You… ugh.” She tried to relent, but her tired mind may finally be catching up to her. She just crossed her arms and faced forward, a small pout sticking to her face.

His smirk fell as playtime ended and he threw the weight on his shoulders and mind off with a heavy sigh. It would come back soon, but at the very least, it was good to knock it off for the time being.

For at the least, one crisis was averted.

* * *

It was fine.

They were fine.

Garreg Mach was fine.

There were no invaders, no siege weapons, no battalions, no flames, no destroyed homes, no razed earth, no nothing. Just the monastery, as normal as it ever was.

As he marched down the stone pathways of the monastery, he kept his eyes moving; scanning every shadow and every nook for anything out of the ordinary. The knights were dismissed, the students were dismissed, Catherine was dismissed, so it was just him as he walked his way to Rhea’s.

Every shadow was a threat, every piece of cover was a hiding spot, every open space was an ambush site.

“You need to calm yourself.” Sothis said.

_Why would I do that when there’s something-._

“First of all, you don’t know that, you suspect that. Second, you are here, you will be able to do something about it. You should heed the words you yourself said to the boy.”

_…maybe, but there are too many possibilities to account for._

“And there’s nothing wrong with over-planning, just don’t forget that plans can change in the blink of an eye.”

_Sure, how could I forget?_

“Yes, how could you?”

Then she was gone again, and he was in the hallway that leads to Rhea’s chambers. Standing right in front of the door, in fact. Moment of truth, taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

As serene ever, was the archbishop Lady Rhea waiting for him in her audience room. Her hands clasped at her front, religious outfit and headdress on, Seteth at her side. His father already in a conversation with the two with Dimitri standing not far from them. The door’s heavy creaking made everyone look at the source, being him. He tried to not show how hard the light was coming into his eyes as he approached.

“Kid, back already?” Jeralt asked.

Byleth stopped in front of them and rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. “Rhea, may I?”

“Of course.” She said.

“The rebellion is snuffed, Lonato is dead, and I doubt they will continue without him. The prisoners are in the knights care. I gave the body to Ashe, he deserves to bury his father.”

Seteth looked a little miffed at his call, but Rhea simply nodded.

“He deserves that much.” She stated. He nodded.

“There’s something else.” He said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the letter from Lonato’s possessions. “My men found this letter on him.”

“What does it say?” He asked, also grabbing the letter and beginning to read. His brow fell more and more as he read. Byleth left him to that and addressed Rhea.

“Key points: Lonato and his uprising was bait for something else, someone put him up to it, and someone wants you dead. Very badly.”

Rhea looked like she didn’t care that her life was in the sights of someone. You might even consider her amused by the very slight twitch of her smile that made it look bigger. Seteth reacted as Seteth does, throwing a fit and trying to call every knight on standby to form a wall of a few battalions of men around the archbishop. Rhea waved down at Seteth.

“Calm yourself, Seteth. I very much doubt they will attack within the monastery walls, and you know well that I am capable of defending myself.”

“But-.” He tried to respond with widened eyes.

“She’s right, I wouldn’t be worried.” Jeralt said. Rhea gave him a thankful look. Seteth was not done, however.

But what the archbishop wants, the archbishop gets.

“For what reason did you return so quickly, child? Was it to inform me?” She asked, her brow angled up in worry.

“That, and I thought the rebellion was the setup to an attack on the monastery. The best help you were gonna would’ve been Hanneman, and that worries me.” He said while rubbing his eyes again. The students were sleeping a few days worth of marching off with very little breaks. The knights were fine with the overtime, it was something they trained for, but the kids and prisoners they brought with them would be sore for the next month. He was used to being awake for days, but that didn’t mean that it felt any easier.

“Child…” Rhea muttered as her look deepened.

“You work too hard.” Jeralt said, giving him a good slap on the back.

“Yeah? You hardly work.” He said. Jeralt gave an amused breath.

“Hey, not my fault there was nothing to work for. It was just guard duty for a noble party, nothing major at all. Things went off without a hitch.”

Byleth just shook his head and sighed. Why don’t good things happen to good people? He glanced at the stained window behind Rhea and Seteth, light still coming in from the midday sun. He let out a breath of annoyance and fatigue. He still had paperwork to deal with from organizing the knights and for the prisoners and for the convoy’s stockpile and…

He rubbed his forehead while looking down.

“Rhea, if I may be excused? I have paperwork that needs to be done.”

“Of cou-.”

The Goddess was a cruel mistress who did not shine down good fortune on those she favored. This was clear from the knight running into the room, his mouth agape for breath under his wide helmet and visor.

“Archbishop! Captain!” The knight yelled through pants. “I’m glad you’re both here, we have an emergency.”

“Breathe, man, breathe.” Byleth said, giving the man time to get some air before he spat some more back out. The knight took a few seconds to recuperate.

“Thank you, Captain.” He gulped. “There’s been an attack in Garreg Mach, inside the Holy Mausoleum”

“What? Who are the attackers?” Seteth asked. Rhea didn’t move aside from her smile vanishing. Jeralt tensed. Byleth did, too. Dimitri, who had been silent since he came in, was completely flabbergasted; wide eyes, open mouth detailing all of his current feelings.

“The Western Church, from their emblems. We assume they snuck in and disguised themselves as workers or knights from discarded armor and clothes around the area.” He looked at Byleth. “Some of them freed the prisoners and kill whoever arrived with you, Captain. Every knight was killed in their sleep.”

“The students I came with?” Byleth asked.

“As far as I know, safe and sound. Catherine, too. A few of the students who were by the gazebo were…” He couldn’t finish the sentence, and he didn’t need to. Everyone knew what he meant.

“…looks like you were right. I hope your planning comes across as useful.” Sothis said. Byleth lightly nodded to himself. He looked at Rhea.

“Do I?”

“Yes. By any means necessary.” Rhea steely said.

Byleth looked at the knight.

“Gather whoever is around. Get the entrances gated and sealed, no one in or out. Two dozen men at each. Find Alois and tell him that and tell him he has my permission to lead and do whatever he may deem necessary. Then get Catherine and get her to the Mausoleum. Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” The knight saluted and ran out of the room, his plate clanking and echoing through the hallway.

“Father, I would have your class accompany me, I’m short on able men at the moment.” Byleth said to Jeralt. His decision to make the Knights less of a military and more of a peace-keeping corp/Rhea’s honor guard was currently biting him in the ass and few feet up it. It hurt like hell.

“You have them.” He nodded back. “I’ll split the load with Alois in setting up checkpoints, we’ll be spread thin otherwise.”

Byleth nodded and looked at Dimitri, whose earlier face of shock had hardened until it became a stone face of anger.

“Dimitri, gather your class and meet me in the gazebo. If I’m not there, do not go in without me. Wait for me.”

He didn’t wait for a response and gave Rhea a bow and a normal look. The Ashen Demon look.

“They will be dealt with within the hour.”

He turned and walked away, hand on the grip of his sword.

* * *

Byleth slit another Western Church member's throat, ripping off his mask and gritting his teeth at the fact that he recognized the man. They were plants. This man was at the monastery for months. He pushed his head into the ground and let him bleed out on the stone walkway.

He parried an incoming sword swig and lodged his sword into the attacker's gut with both hands, and twisted it. The gurgles he made as blood pooled from his mouth almost disguised the snap of a bowstring. He grabbed the dying man by the should and shoved him in front of it, the back of the body’s neck now getting an arrow in it. Byleth used the body as a shield as he charged a fireball in his hand and flung it at the archer, a small flicker of heat radiated from him before he fell to the stone floor, ashen clothes and all. Byleth released his sword from a fleshy sheath and wiped the blood off his sword on it before letting the body fall.

The gazebo was small, within a garden with a few stone paths in it, surrounded by hedge walls and a few sparse fences. The grass was level and well cared for, the hedge was trimmed, the gazebo’s table cleaned. Flowers lined bushes, stone walls with ivy growing across it was more decoration than it was a nuisance. Benches scattered around for students and faculty to converse amongst themselves and enjoy all that life had to offer.

Now as he looked around, it was all covered in blood.

Western Church blood.

Knight blood.

Student blood.

The bodies surrounding him weren’t just the ones he left, there were corpses of knights in steel, knights in chain, westerners in robes… and students in academy uniforms. More than a dozen of them dotted the garden.

He heard the rhythmic sounds of boots marching, many of them. Seven or eight, less than ten. It was either more Western Church members marching to their graves or his backup. This time, the Goddess gave him something to thank her for as the latter walked through the metal gate.

The Blue Lions were ready for war. They were clad in armor, robes, weapons, and tomes sheathed to their waist. Even Ashe, who hasn’t slept enough in days stood ready at attention with his bow hanging at his side. Their eyes noticed the bodies that lay over the grass, stone, and dirt.

“Byleth, what… happened?” Dimitri asked, his anger and boar-ness letting his concern and sorrow take precedence for the moment. Byleth looked at the rest of the Lions.

Annette was near crying, dry sobbing a little, as Mercedes comforted her, she looked perturbed herself.

Felix had a hand on his hip, slowly shaking his head as his eyes dimmed.

Sylvain had his arms crossed, his eyes on Ingrid as she held her hands in front of her, asking the Goddess why she had let this happen.

Ashe looked marginally more tired than the rest of them, his eyes near closed as he surveyed more death without stopping.

Dedue merely shook his head.

Byleth looked back at Dimitri.

“The Knights and… others were here when I got here. The Western Church is me.” Byleth shook his head, he felt the stares on him. The students were most likely amazed he could kill six or so men by himself, but this was not the time to be awestruck. Now was the time to strike at awe.

“Everyone,” Byleth said, everyone who wasn’t looking at him was doing it now, and sticking their sights on him. “We’re the only line for this fight. The rest of the knights are blockading the entrances, and the only backup we’ll have is Catherine, whenever she gets here.” He looked at Ashe and held eye contact for a moment. “We just finished fighting the best of what they had to offer in Lonato’s realm. They are not elite.” He said while shaking his head. “Follow my commands, do not break formation, cover each other, and we will win.” He stared directly at Dimitri.

“Do not let your emotions get the better of you.”

Dimitri’s face didn’t move. He only nodded.

“Let’s move.”

Byleth led the march to the Holy Mausoleum. It was through a stone pathway that led to partway underground that was accessible from the Gazebo above. Torches lined the walls and gave plentiful light for the students and what awaits them further within. From a few dragging footsteps and constant deep breaths from behind him, he could feel the anxiety radiating from the Lions. They were no stranger to battle, but a fight so close to home would always hurt the most. Ashe especially.

“Perhaps it’s also you, Captain. Your presence demands the best of people.” Sothis said

…maybe. I’m going to hope that it’s just me.

“It could also be their prince. He looks like he may explode at any given moment.”

Ah, yes. The boar prince, as Felix called him. Why ever Dimitri had such an odd nickname, Felix had not told him and Byleth considered rude to intrude. If someone wanted him to know, then he would be told. Dimitri, the normally polite, soft-spoken, and good-natured young man walked through a stone hall like he was a light nearing the end of a fuse. Just a little more and he would pop.

Hopefully, the collateral wasn’t worth too much if it did.

Reaching the end of the hall and the entrance path of the Mausoleum, the atmosphere shifted. The torchlight still lay on walls and pillars that held the room up, their shine giving the room a slight orange hue. Cracks in the stone floor and walls lay everywhere, sporadically scattered throughout the room. At the far end of the room, was a raised section of floor that Byleth could not see on top of, but a good many men surrounded it, a good dozen, and another dozen on either side of the room. They were dressed in the same robes and masks that were on the Western Church members that served as guard to these men. Up the very middle of the room, standing just in front of a staircase, was someone, or something different altogether.

A massive man, dark and spiked plate. The spikes resembled the bone of some powerful primordial beast. A red and tattered cap flowed in the draft that filled the room from the direction Byleth and company had just come from. His helmet had two more spikes coming out, like a demon from an illustration, the design on it gave a similar impression. The features of a skull, sharp teeth, an empty hole for a nose opening, and two openings for the eyes, filled with the void itself; save for two red, glowing eyes. He stared at him, Byleth directly, a stare that did not waver for the minute that Byleth had been surveying the room. The world itself was reduced to the strip of stone that held the two within their very own world.

The knight that reeked of death stared at the demon whose eyes brought the fear of death into anyone that would meet him on the battlefield.

For the first time, it didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cold steel 4 is really good btw, that's whats been taking up most of my free time, and I'm not even past act 1 :( 
> 
> Sothis is still the best character
> 
> for the love of god byleth needs a little bit of flavor to his backstory so its what he's gonna get. it's nothing too out of line, but it'll give some context to why he thinks the ways he does. no hints this time.
> 
> the way the events of the game happen is so spread out that some of the more urgent situations are kind of weird in the way they are taken, especially flayn, so this is being pushed up to the day after lonato so I can bang my head against the keyboard while I try and do yuri and hapi justice in the place of the month of where the mausoleum takes place.
> 
> I'm also aware that I'm an asshat for this cliffhanger and i would hate me too.
> 
> basically it. I'm going to sleep forever.


	6. Let's Dance

“Cap’!”

A familiar voice popped from the hallway that they came from and snapped Byleth out of his staring contest with the armored knight. He turned around and saw Claude followed by his entourage of classmates, the whole Golden Deer were ready to fight to the death and equipped in their full battle gear, despite the bags under the eyes of Claude and the two who accompanied him.

“What are you doing here?” Byleth asked. Claude shrugged.

“We’re here to back you up. Didn’t want the Lions to get all the credit for stopping an attack on one of the most sacred parts of a most sacred place.” He said, one hand on his hip and the other gripping the lip of the quiver on his side.

“This isn’t a competition, Claude.” Dimitri said bitterly.

“I’m aware, we just don’t want anyone to get hurt.” Claude said staring past Byleth’s shoulder and to Dimitri himself, who sighed.

“I’m fine with it Byleth, but only if they behave.” Claude mocked a gasp.

“I’m offended, your highness. Talk about my nefarious tales all you want but do not lump them in with me.” He flashed a grin. “Those were all me.”

Byleth turned back around to face the knight that stood center stage. He wasn’t moving or signaling anything to the others, he was just watching them. Watching him. The voices of the bickering students behind him drowned out in the meeting of their eyes; piercing red versus blank blue.

“Enough.”

The students were cut off mid-sentence and stayed silent.

“Lions, Take the left. Deer, take the right. Listen to Claude and Dimitri, stay in formation and you’ll be fine. Get to the far end where they’re surrounding, cut off their head and this will be over.”

“What will you be doing?” Dimitri asked.

Byleth removed his eyes from the knight’s to glance at the prince before locking back once more. He drew his sword.

“I’m making sure you won’t be interrupted. Go.”

The students scampered off with no protest, going to their respective positions, and their leaders divvying out assignments and formations for their houses. A few of the students looked at him nervously: Lysithea, Annette, Mercedes, Ignatz. They were nervous about what was right in front of them, but for those kinder than the rest, they were worried about him. He was about to fight a knight who had a skull for a helmet, after all.

Stepping forward, Byleth felt the atmosphere of the room get smaller and smaller as the distance between the two closed. When he stopped not ten feet away from the nameless knight, the atmosphere would’ve registered on a weight scale.

“Who are you?” Byleth asked. The knight made no movements, keeping his arms dangling by his side. What he did do was let out one loud, deep, animalistic groan as he tilted his head ever so slightly. The metal of his aventail creaking as if it were an ancient, zombified being inhabiting the armor, coming back to life after centuries of being stagnant.

“Others call me the Death Knight, you may do that as well.” He spoke in the same groaned voice as before. One could describe it as pure evil and they wouldn’t be wrong at all. He drew something from behind his back. A long staff, along curved blade coming from the end of it; a scythe that seemed to cut any of the shadows that weren’t touched by the light from the torches.

“Are you here to kill Rhea?” Byleth asked.

“No, she means nothing to me. I doubt she could give me a good fight.” The Death Knight walked forward, armor creaking as the plate and chain on his legs clinked as they moved. He took two slow, far steps towards Byleth. He stopped and moved his head up and down, surveying Byleth with his glowing eyes before returning them to Byleth’s own. “You may.” He brandished his scythe, flourishing it, his cape flowing from the breeze from his movement. “I will not harm the students, in return.”

Byleth brought his sword up with two hands, spreading his legs as he took his stance. He gave a single nod in response to the Knight. He took a deep breath and did what he hasn’t done in a good while, since before coming here.

The Ashen Demon had to come back.

He focused his vision on his immediate surroundings, he let his face drop, his eyes drop as he became as neutral as the impression he gave from his face. He even disregarded the students on the flanks of the room, he had no reason to fear, so he wouldn’t. He became focused on only two things: staying alive and killing the man in front of him.

He charged, no grunt, no breath, no nothing. He brought his sword up and swung diagonally.

The knight blocked it with the shaft of the scythe.

He pushed his staff to knock Byleth off his balance.

Byleth brought a forearm to block it. It hurt like hell, but it would pass. He swung his sword horizontally at the Death Knights pauldron. It bounced off the armor with a loud ‘clank’.

_Armor’s too strong, have to go for open spots: joints, underneath arms, groin, neck._

The Knight raised his scythe and swung vertically. Byleth sidestepped it and the blade ran deep into the stone floor. He pulled it out effortlessly and swung horizontally.

Byleth ducked it and tried to go for a stab into the knight’s groin.

The Knight had let stopped his swing in a feint and grabbed the tip of the sword with a gauntlet. The cutting on the metal made a terrifying screech.

Byleth pushed the sword in harder, the force made the Knight’s center of gravity lower to strengthen his stance.

_Mistake. Overcommitment to defense._

Byleth pulled the sword out of the Death Knight’s metal fingers and pirouetted in a flourishing swing, momentum forcing the blade around in a natural grace and unnatural force.

At that moment, Byleth felt something strange in his left hand. The purple light of his crest that he had not thought about since going to the professor was leaking through his gloved hand. Not just leaking through, it was as though it was a design on the glove itself. It shone bright and filled his body with a similar energy; his body felt stronger, his spin felt faster.

His sword ran deep through the armor of the Death Knight in large line as ruptured metal curled as though it was hot out of the forge. His blade was smoking in a similar fashion. For a normal man, such a blow would kill them or at least immobilize them; but the Death Knight, as his name implied, was no normal man, if a little cliche.

He stiffened when his armor cracked open but recovered quickly. Byleth’s spin was an overcommitment itself, as a move would normally kill someone, he didn’t need to recover. The Knight brought his scythe around and swung diagonally. The blade pierced Byleth’s ankle, making his stone face only wince in reaction. The Death Knight laughed in a menacing, guttural way.

“Oh… I am impressed. I was right, you are a match for me.” He pulled his scythe out and rested it by his side. He raised his free hand and a white, swirling light came out from it. It was aimed at Byleth’s ankle, the wound uncomfortably closing until it would leave a nasty scar in its place. Another story in Byleth’s storied body. Byleth glanced at his glowing leg and when it faded away, he stared at the Death Knight, who let his arm fall to his side and raised his weapon in stance once more. “Shall we continue?”

Byleth got into his own stance, but he let his weapon fall to his side and reversed his grip. He held his blade in an icepick stance and held his other hand low and closer to his chest like a boxing style.

The Death Knight charged this time, swinging his scythe vertically.

Byleth raised his sword, using his blade on the thick part of the blade to halt its momentum. He pushed back on it to make the Knight stumble. It didn’t, but it got his attention wavering. He used his free hand to grip the staff of the scythe and pull him in towards his own body. The Knight was heavy, too heavy, but it got his balance off that he was stumbling. He was regaining his balance quickly.

He spun on his feet and his body followed, his sword wrapping around his body like a dance as it entered right where he wanted it to, the inner elbow of the Death Knight, one of the very few open spots on the Knights armor. The Knight grunted and grabbed the sword by the blade and pulled it out himself with Byleth still holding on. The Knight throw the hilt of the sword out of Byleth’s grasp and hit him in the head with it. Byleth staggered back a few steps.

The Knight switched his scythe to the hand that was still moving, his wounded arm fell limp at his right side. He showed no sign of fatigue as he stood tall. He watched Byleth pick up his sword off the ground, rubbing his forehead, a nice red mark, and eventual bruise sitting on it. He showed no sign of fatigue either, though he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling it. Not sleeping for a few days will do that to you.

Then the maniac started laughing. Low, like trombones being blasted. It didn’t give the impression of amusement. Just then, perhaps it was a trick of the dim light, his eyes looked brighter. Like stars. Dead ones.

He charged again.

He did not swing his scythe, he curled a left hook ready and let it loose when he came upon Byleth.

Byleth side-stepped the punch, but he did not see the scythe coming down vertically on top of him.

It entered the back of his shoulder with a resounding fleshy sound. He could feel the warmth of his blood pour out of his back. He let out a low grunt from the pain. Having a foreign object try and rearrange your blood vessels was never a fun thing to deal with.

The Death Knight laughed harder as he laid his free hand on top of the staff and put pressure on it, the force, and his own body’s resistance making the blade wiggle in the wound. It hurt like hell. Byleth’s breathing became erratic and shallow as he seized his breath to let out involuntary grunts of the pain.

Byleth looked around at the students on either side. The Lions were doing well, they had already reached the back staircase and were waiting for the Deer. The Deer had a few fatigued members and had the others make up for it, Claude had a hastily tied bandage wrapped around his right arm, but he was doing fine. They were dealing with a stubborn bunch but were looking fine.

“Byleth!” Sothis yelled.

Byleth wasn’t paying attention. His concern got to him, again. The scythe had left his shoulder and was being swung directly at his neck. He didn’t have time to duck, he didn’t have time to dodge, didn’t have time to block.

There was only time to do one thing.

To make more.

Byleth clenched his fist and the world around him lost color. The world around him lost its movement. The swing stopped, all momentum gone. The people within the room were as still as statues.

“You know, if you paid attention, you wouldn’t have to waste uses of my powers like this.” Sothis commented.

_Yeah, well. At least I’ve got him beat now._

The world rewound.

The scythe was still in his shoulder, the Death Knight still had a hand on the shaft of the scythe, laughing like a madman.

This time, he did not divert his attention. He stared the Knight down until he removed the scythe from his flesh. He brought his scythe up above his neck, preparing to swing another terrible fatal blow.

Byleth would not let it this time.

Weapons all had their pros and cons. Swords were versatile, available in differing sizes, could be better at stabbing or slicing or even great at both; but they had a hard time piercing armor. Axes carried heavyweight and with them a heavy blow, and were fantastic against armor; they were not so fantastic against unarmored or otherwise quicker enemies. Lances had a long reach and could attack with pinpoint precision; dealing with an opponent who made it past its bladed tip was a disadvantage.

A scythes’ pros? Long reach, effective against armor, and a unique ability to attack behind the guard of a shield.

The cons? Slow recovery, and ineffective in any way at close range.

All Byleth needed to do was make the room smaller and he could have his way. So he did.

Rather than blocking, parrying, or dodging the swing, Byleth ran into it. The wood of the scythe his left arm with some force. He could hear and even feel the ‘crunch’ that came with the strike. He could not move it. It was no matter, he would deal with that wound later on. He dropped his sword as he came up to the chest of the Death Knight. He reached up and grabbed the Death Knight’s helmeted face. The impact of his hand and his inertia from a headstart made the Death Knight fall to the ground.

Byleth threw all of his power into his right hand, the temperature of the flames coming to reality from his very soul was painful, but it had to be endured. He had committed. With a flash of purple from his hand, the sign of his Crest rising once more, the flames poured out from his hand and through the eyeholes of the Death Knight’s helmet.

The Knight started to scream; dark, desperate, resounding cries. They were not for help, or pleas to stop, they were simply because the Knight was in pain. He quieted down as more flames heated his armor like an over, and raised his left hand and grabbed Byleth by the shoulder, charging his own spell.

Byleth saw it, but he could do nothing to stop it. He would be giving up the possibility of ending this fight if he did so. He’d have suffered worse, he could handle a Thunder through his shoulder.

It was not a Thunder that Byleth felt, it was the Thoron that sent him off the Knight and onto the stone behind him.

He could not move his head, everything spun around him; even Sothis’s cries were drowned in the pounding of his head. He could only move his eyes, squinting from even the dim light, as the faint clanking of metal could be heard getting closer.

And the laughing.

Goddess, the laughing.

He would do anything if it meant having to not hear that demonic, antagonistic laugh anymore.

And maybe he wouldn’t, he couldn’t concentrate his mind enough to use another Divine Pulse, he couldn’t turn back time to come up with another plan. Another chance. If he wasn’t going to hear anything, it would be wherever the next realm of the afterlife takes him.

He tried to get up, flexing his muscles, deepening his breath to get up. He could only curl his fingers, nothing more.

In his blurry vision, he could see the silhouette of the Death Knight raising his scythe.

Byleth closed his eyes, ready.

…

Yet he felt nothing.

He opened them. The Death Knight was reeling, purple smoke seeping out from his upper body, a hand on his shoulder that held his limp arm. He was not laughing anymore.

Byleth felt his mind go clear, go blank. He felt his body go clear, go blank.

In two swift movements, he shot up to his feet and grabbed the Death Knights dropped scythe in one hand.

In another, he brought the scythe down into its owner's working arm and pulled as hard as he could down on it. The Death Knight’s pauldron couldn’t take the abuse and flew off, leaving half of a piece on the owner’s shoulder. The Death Knight grabbed his blade out of his shoulder and pushed back Byleth with the butt of the wood. There was not enough force to send him on his rear like earlier, but just enough to get him stumbling back a few steps.

“Enough.” The Death Knight declared.

Then he laughed again. Less a laugh, more a small chuckle.

“I am impressed. You are more than I thought you would be.” He dropped his scythe to the floor to pick it up in a normal fashion, rather than blade first. “I will take my leave.” He turned toward the middle of the room, where he was originally.

Byleth couldn’t believe it. Less that he would be true to his word, but more that he was actually leaving in the middle of that fight.

“Just like that?” Byleth asked between ragged breaths. The Death Knight was breathing heavier as well, his breaths coming out in raspy gasps.

“There will come a time when one of us is to die,” The Death Knight said over his shoulder. “That day is not today.”

And in a flash of purple, the Death Knight was gone.

…

No time to ponder that, he had others here. He looked at where the students were. The Deer were still on their side of the flank. From the looks of things, the guard around the back wall had converged to help their side and the Blue Lions came to help them out. It was an even fight in terms of numbers, maybe a few more bodies on the Church’s side, but they looked they were holding well.

In that case, it was Byleth’s time to finish things.

‘Cut off the head and this will be over.’

Byleth walked forward, looking around for his sword and spotting it a few feet over. He tried to move his left arm. He couldn’t, probably dislocated from the staff hit from earlier. He thought it was just numb.

Retrieving his sword, he continued his stride toward the back wall, deigning to take the path that the Blue Lions had held. The bodies of the Western Church littered the place.

_These kids can be machines._

“Indeed. So can you. You fought on even grounds with someone called the ‘Death Knight’.” Sothis responded.

_With help. I should’ve died. I underestimated his magic._

“Less underestimated, I would call it overconfidence.”

_Never had a reason to not be._

“Just so you know, you are not the only one that can use Divine Pulse. I bestowed it to you and I have ultimate power over it. Should I see you in mortal danger, I will turn back time. You were not.”

_Glad to know you have my back._

“Of course.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “We can discourse later, you have a fight to finish.”

_Indeed._

Byleth had reached the steps by the end of his reverie with Sothis. He climbed them, one at a time, slowly. The metal of his sword clanging off a couple of the brick stairs. Reaching the top, there was a single member of the Western Church there. He stood over an open coffin and holding an odd weapon in his hand.

Byleth calmly strode forward, his sword dangling by his side and the tip pointed down at the ground.

The rebel finally noticed Byleth. Maybe it was due to the look of his face, the blood and dirt on his skin and clothes, the burn marks on his hand, or the limp arm dangling at his side. Whatever it was that came to the attention of the leader, he let out a terrifying scream like he saw a ghost. He dropped the sword in his hand and sprinted off the way Byleth came, giving as wide a berth as he could.

Byleth turned on his back foot and threw the sword like it was a mere dagger. It hit the Western Church member in the leg, cutting a clear swath of blood across his skin. He stumbled to the ground, he tried getting up after, but it was no use; his leg couldn’t hold any weight at all. He tried crawling away.

Seeing as how it was the only weapon in the near vicinity, Byleth picked up the weapon the maybe-priest was holding earlier. On a closer look, it looked like a sword but not of steel. It looked more of bone, a handle of leather around its grip and a circle-shaped hole in the middle of the guard. It was an interesting specimen, but it was a weapon nonetheless and it would do its job.

But as Byleth descended the stairs to finish the leader off, he felt an instinct. A new one; a foreign one, yet, he felt… nostalgic? Like he hadn’t felt such a sensation in decades, but this was certainly the first time he had ever felt it.

The instance he felt was to not wait until he was mere inches away but to swing now. He was a dozen feet away, but he still felt that it was still a perfectly fine distance to swing a sword whose blade ran not even four feet long.

But whatever, crazier things have happened, and with that reasoning, Byleth swung his sword vertically.

On watching what happened, maybe this was the craziest thing Byleth had ever seen.

The sword in his hand disassembled, unraveled its blade into a long whip with segmented parts of the blade sticking out in fragments. The blade extended and arced high into the air and followed his swing, cracks of red and black lightning fired out as the blade cut deep into the back of the leader of this group and killed him, from more than ten feet away.

The blade was still unraveled when Byleth returned the blade to his side. He raised it and looked at it, wondering how this thing was supposed to get back together. If it was a button, or…

As he thought on it, the blade retracted, slinking on the floor before returning to his original shape.

Byleth’s face scrunched up as he stared at this thing. Did it come from the coffin? Is this what the Western Church was after?

“Byleth!”

“Cap’!”

Two distinct voices brought Byleth out of his internal discussion. Those voices and the marching of footsteps could only mean one group. He turned around and was greeted by nearly twenty students, who looked none the worse for wear. A few bandages here, a couple of bloodstains here, all of them dirty but they were all in decent shape, judging by how they cut down forty or so men.

“How’d you guys fare?” Byleth asked, sheathing the sword in his small leather… sheath.

“Just fine, they got a couple of hits on us but nothing too crazy.” Claude said, shrugging and grinning.

“How about you? Out of the bits I saw, it was a tough fight.”

“That might be the biggest understatement I’ve heard since I became conscious.” Sothis deadpanned.

“We were even, but I’m fine.” Byleth tried to shrug, but a dislocated arm made it look odd. “Claude, Dimitri, and Mercedes. You stay behind, we have some things to talk about. The rest of you, go rest or help out the knights. Good work, all of you.”

A few cheers came out, a few reassuring nods, and a few grunts were all that came between the students leaving the underground and them getting some rest. If they had any questions or concerns over what just happened with the sword becoming a whip, then their fatigue was winning. They scattered as soon as they finished the pleasantries and goodbyes. After they left, the only ones in the room were Byleth, the aforementioned students, and curiously, Lysithea. Byleth looked at her.

“Sure you don’t want to lay down?” He asked.

“That can wait until I know you’re okay.” She said, as serious as she usually is.

Byleth didn’t have the energy to argue, so he just let it pass. Byleth turned and walked toward the steps, laying his new sword on the handrail. He rolled the shoulder of the side he could still move.

“Dimitri, Claude, you report. Mercedes, I really need the heals, start as soon as I’m done.” He paused. “Actually, does anyone have a bandage?”

“Yes. Here.” Lysithea pulled one out like it was already in her hand. Maybe it was. He gave his thanks as he took it and put it in his mouth, biting down hard on it.

“What are you…?” Dimitri started to ask, and either figured it out by himself or trailed off in confusion.

Byleth grabbed the wrist of his limp left arm and took a deep breath. He bit down on the cloth in his mouth and yanked his arm down with all his force. It went back into its socket with a loud ‘crack’. He grunted loudly and if not for the bandage in his mouth, he would have screamed and bitten his tongue off. Byleth spit the bandage out and sat down on the stairs, looking at the students.

Claude was wincing with his teeth bared. Dimitri had his eyes wide. Mercedes and Lysithea both had their eyes wide and mouths covered with their hands.

He couldn’t blame them for their reactions, not every day you see field triage in action. Mercedes got over her shock quickly and sat beside him, raising her hands to his shoulder and getting to work. Honestly, he would’ve asked Marianne, but she was still dealing with Lonato’s fight being not even a week ago, and the lack of rest, and the healing of her own team, that he couldn’t dare ask her to force herself more.

“Dimitri?” Byleth asked, leaning forward.

The prince got out of whatever stupor he was in after Byleth’s words.

“Well, needless to say, they are all dead. They were not well-armed and only killed as many as they did because of the element of surprise. I would doubt any more of them coming as well.”

“I agree with his princeliness. They were the same guys we fought at Lonato’s, they might have been detached from the main unit, but with no one to call a leader, plus Lady Rhea spreading the good word, this probably the last we’ve seen of them.”

Lysithea stayed quiet, eyes glued to his wounds. Mercedes did the same, finishing his shoulder and moving to his other side to the stab wounds in his shoulder blades and the burn marks on his hand.

“I have a question.” Byleth asked.

“What is it?” Dimitri asked.

“Where the hell is Catherine?”

“Right here!”

Catherine, like she wasn’t absent from the fight that she was supposed to be in, came running across the way at a brisk jog. Thunderbrand lay at her side, still dripping blood.

“Where were you?” Byleth asked, trying to not let too much frustration out.

“Stuck between Lady Rhea and Seteth’s back and forth over where I should be. It was like that for a while until the soldier you sent finally caught up with me, and I came as quick as I could.” She said, defeated.

Byleth sighed. He didn’t blame her, in that case. At least Rhea and Seteth kept her in one place long enough for him to catch up.

Catherine looked around, giving the place a once over.

“Wow, you guys did a real number on them!” She declared, her head still moving around until it settled on the sword he used laying on the handrail closest to the wall. “Is that what they were after?” She asked, eyes and face hardening to steel.

“I think so,” Lysithea said, shifting her weight. She was still looking at Byleth. “Byleth picked up the sword and started swinging it around like a flail. He hit the last guy from… must have been a dozen feet away.”

Catherine looked completely flabbergasted.

“You did… what?” She asked.

“It’s true.” Byleth said.

Catherine blinked.

Then blinked again.

“The Sword of the Creator… responded to you?”

“Is that what it’s called?” Byleth asked.

Once those words left his mouth, five heads turned to him like just said the dumbest thing they’ve ever heard. Byleth only studied what he was interested in, whatever this… thing was, if he ever heard of it before, did not pique his interest.

“The sword passed down by the Goddess herself and wielded by Nemesis? You’ve never heard of it?” Catherine asked, completely aghast.

Byleth shook his head. It almost made him dizzy. He needed sleep.

Catherine just sighed.

“Well, whatever. Just see Rhea as soon as she’s done healing you, got it? If you skip, I’ll hunt you down myself.”

Byleth held up his left hand in defeat. It was painful and it almost creaked. It was a little swollen, he might need a cast.

“I will. Promise.”

Catherine gave a nod and walked away.

“If you two want to get out of here, feel free. I’ll update you later if you’re curious.” Byleth said, addressing the house leaders present.

“Aye, aye. If you need us, we’ll be around.” Claude gave a two-fingered salute and walked off.

“I pray for your quick recovery. Farewell.” He put his hand to his chest and walked off.

Byleth looked at Lysithea.

“I know better than to suggest you do the same. Make yourself comfortable.”

Lysithea took his advice and sat down on the side with his formerly dislocated shoulder, staring at it all the while.

None of them said anything while Mercedes finished her work.

Eventually, the light from Mercedes's hands disappeared.

“All done!” She said. “I assume you already know to not do anything strenuous with that arm and to wrap your burns, replacing them every day after you bathe?” Mercedes took out her own roll of bandages and wrapped a tight sheet over Byleth’s palm.

“I do, not the first time I’ve dealt with this.” He looked at her. “Thank you, Mercedes.”

She beamed a smile at him.

“You’re welcome!” She stood up and bowed. “I will leave you to your business. If anything happens, I’m always available to help.”

Byleth nodded back and she turned and walked away.

Leaving himself with Lysithea.

“You doing alright?” He asked her, she was staring at his bandaged hand with a sullen look. At his words, she jumped a little and looked at him in the eyes.

“I saw most of the fight with that Knight.” She said plainly.

“And?” He asked.

“You did a lot of stupid things.” She held out her hands and started to count off her fingers. “You burned your own hand, you let yourself get hit with a scythe in the back of your shoulder, you purposefully dislocated your own arm… Need I go on?”

“I did, but he said he wouldn’t hurt any of you so long as I gave him a challenge, so I did. I fought like I was a mercenary.”

She paused. Her expression fell sorrowful.

“You fight like that? When it was just you and your father?” She said, much quieter.

“If necessary.”

If she wanted to say anything after that, she must have not been able to manage the words. She stared at him for a moment before directing her gaze to the floor.

“Thank you.”

Her head shot back up.

“For the help.”

She blinked.

“How could you know it was me?”

“What other mages in this whole place can use dark magic?”

“Hubert?”

“He’s off somewhere else. Which leaves you.” He tried to smile. “You saved my life.”

“No, she didn’t.” Sothis said.

_How very nice of you._

Lysithea turned her head around and crossed her arms.

“I just didn’t want you killed so soon, was all.”

Byleth felt his smile widen from whatever it was. If she could see it, she would be a sputtering mess. Maybe. Seemed in character for her.

Byleth stood up, reaching over Lysithea to grab the… Sword of the Creator. He sheathed as he thought that he should visit the library, soon.

“I have to meet with Rhea. You’re welcome to tag along.”

Lysithea turned her head, stood up, and smiled.

“I have nothing better to do. I shall follow.”

“Sureeeeeeee she doesn’t.” Sothis sarcastically said. Byleth shook his head in response.

The two walked out of the Holy Mausoleum, Byleth was still expecting to see the bodies of the students, knights, and invaders from earlier after they stepped out; there were more bodies than he was expecting, however. Moving ones.

He stepped out into the light of day and was greeted by the Black Eagles.

Edelgard turned to see him, her face forming to one of pure panic as she jogged over to him.

“Byleth, are you okay?”

He shrugged. Lysithea glared.

“Just fine. The invaders are all dead.”

Edelgard looked down at his hip and saw his new sword. Her eyes widened.

“Is that… the Sword of the Creator? What is it doing with you? Where did it come from?”

“It was in the Mausoleum.” Byleth said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “I picked it up because it was the only weapon around and it did something interesting.”

Edelgard raised an eyebrow.

“Interesting?”

“It turned into a whip, for lack of a better explanation.” Lysithea said like she heard it a thousand times before.

If Edelgard’s eyes could widen anymore, then a new record could be in place. Byleth heard her breath hitch, as well as grabbing the attention of several Eagles in the background. A few approached.

“Did I hear you right, Captain?” Hubert asked, cooly inspecting him. “The Sword of the Creator reacted to you?”

“It turned into a whip?” Dorothea screeched. “Can I see?!”

“I wanna see, too!” Caspar yelled.

“Can you all be quiet for five seconds?” Linhardt deadpanned from the back.

Byleth shook his head. As much as he appreciated the Black Eagles' eagerness, the pounding in his head and ache of his body from numerous sources was making him internally agree with Linhardt’s question. Lysithea probably felt it too.

“We have to meet with the Archbishop.” She said. Edelgard tilted her head as the surprise finally vanished from her visage.

“Does she require you, as well?” She asked. Lysithea sighed.

“I am coming to make sure our dear Captain doesn’t _accidentally_ set himself on fire again.” She said, half annoyed and half sweetly.

The glares, looks of concern, and looks of pity that radiated from the Adrestian house at him almost made Byleth crack under the pressure and run like a child. Which he did, elegantly and shamelessly striding forward through the judgemental group.

“Come, Lysithea. I’m expecting a riveting conversation.” He said over his shoulder, before turning that corner and not looking behind him.

Lysithea shook her head and followed.

“I swear, he’s more a child than me.”

She bid her farewells to the Black Eagles and rushed to catch up to the fleeing Captain.

* * *

“That’s about it.”

Byleth got over-explaining the finer bits of the battles’ events to Rhea. Her attention expanding and intensifying with every word he said. He mentioned the bodies littering the gazebo, the Death Knight; Most extreme was her shift was when he was describing what happened with the Sword of the Creator upon his first swing with the weapon.

“The Sword of the Creator… reacted to you?” Seteth said, ever-present in his place at Rhea’s side.

“I guess so. Does it mean anything.”

Seteth blinked at him.

“Does it mean anything, he says…” Seteth mumbled. Rhea just smiled at Byleth like he was some poor lost lamb.

“The Sword of the Creator was a gift from the Goddess herself and bestowed upon the King of Liberation, Nemesis. He used that sword to… free Foldan from the dark powers that ruled over it. Only those touched by the Goddess herself may be able to use it to its true potential.”

Byleth looked away from Rhea and looked at the grip of the sword dangling from his side. Lysithea, who was still tagging along, was looking at it, too. He looked back to Rhea.

“What do you mean, ‘touched by the Goddess’?” He asked.

Rhea made an odd hum.

“I believe Hanneman may have a better answer for you than anything I could possibly give.”

Byleth rubbed his eyes. It’s been a long week and all Byleth wanted was to flop in a bed and do his best Sothis impression, but there’s one thing that Byleth had left to ask. He used his now working hand to take the Sword of the Creator off his side. He didn’t notice it before, but it felt like it came to life when he touched it. It hummed to life, a small red glow came from the empty hole in the center of the sword.

“What of this?” He asked.

“You may keep it.” Rhea said like she was entrusting a young boy to watch over the house and not a twenty-one year old with a centuries-old artifact of unclear power. Seteth was the one who had a realistic response, for once.

“He can… You are… He is…” He paused to regain access to his words. “What?” Was all that he could get out. Byleth didn’t blame him. Even Lysithea looked shocked.

“He is the only one who can use it to its true power, and I trust him to use it well and for the right reasons.” Rhea said.

Seteth pinched the bridge of his nose so hard that his skin was turning red.

“Lady Rhea, I beg you to reconsider.”

“You know when my mind is made up, Seteth.”

They stayed quiet for a moment.

Seteth’s sigh broke it.

“Very well, I know better to argue with you when you are like this.” He said, defeated. He took his hands away from his face and looked at Byleth. “I trust you already know what I am about to say?”

Byleth nodded.

“I do, and I will.”

Lysithea looked lost at the conversation between the two that had happened so many times before it may as well never be said again.

“If that is all, I will take my leave.” Byleth said, saluting and turning away. Lysithea offered her goodbyes and exited the room on Byleth’s heels.

The heavy doors closed with a massive creak that echoed throughout the hallway. Byleth looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, thankful to be out of that stuffy room with stuffy Seteth and he-still-couldn’t-form-an-opinion-on Rhea. He brought his head back down and rubbed his face with his hand.

“Unless you want to follow me into my room, Lysithea, you can stop shadowing me. I’m just going to get some sleep.”

Lysithea crossed her arms and dimmed her eyes as she glared at him.

“As you say.” She brightened her eyes back and let out a sigh. “I’d need one as well if I were one-on-one with those two. They really are draining.”

“Oh, she doesn’t know the half of it.” Sothis commented. Byleth shook her out of his head.

“Thank you again, Lysithea. For the backup, and making sure I’m okay.” He said, trying to smile. This time, he could feel a small one come out. She smiled back.

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you’re okay.” She put her hands behind her back. “Rest well, Byleth.”

Byleth crossed his arms as he watched her walk away towards the stairs of the first floor of the monastery. He let out a breath through pursed lips.

“…do you think she-.” Sothis tried.

_I’m not even going to entertain that._

The only thing Byleth was going to entertain was his bed. Maybe a bath before.

* * *

“The monastery looks pretty at night.” Sothis said.

“So it does.” Byleth whispered to the out and about goblin.

Byleth was speaking to Sothis at the edge of the main cathedral of the monastery. There was a balcony off a small side path that led to a grand view of the lower monastery. The night sky dazzled in a spectacle of stars and the torchlights that littered the monastery grounds shone like smaller, dimmer stars on the ground. He had spent the whole day asleep after killing Western Church members and fighting off someone whose name was ‘Death Knight’, and after he woke up at some point around midnight, he found it hard to go back to sleep. Instead of looking into a pillow or the moonlight off his ceiling, again, it was to spend it somewhere else for once.

Sothis was sitting on the railing, admiring the view she seldom got to see at night. Byleth leaned on the same railing with a hand under his chin, less admiring the view, and more just wasting time until the sun rose again and he got to do something. There was probably paperwork that he could do, he didn’t really remember if he got a chance to do it before being forced into defending an infiltration force with maybe three or four hours of sleep over a little less than a week.

“How are your injuries?” Sothis asked. Her legs were dangling off the railing and into the pit below, swinging like the kid she looked like she was.

Byleth absentmindedly rubbed his left arm with a hand that was still bandaged.

“I’m still sore, but I’ll live.”

“That is good to hear, if you dropped dead I would be in quite the situation.” Sothis said.

“Uh-huh.” Byleth deadpanned.

He sighed as he stared at the moon above. He heard Sothis’s clothes ruffling against the rail that she was sitting on as she turned around. He turned to look at her and saw her with a rare look of concentration; her eyes darting around the area behind them and her lips tightly pressed.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered.

“Someone’s here.” Sothis said. “The prince is coming here.”

“Dimitri?” He quietly asked.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the footsteps that Sothis heard he heard as well. As they grew louder and louder as the prince grew closer and closer, Sothis popped out of his vision like she was never there at all, no trace of her being even there as she retreated back into the body that she took residence in. Byleth stopped leaning on the rail and stood up straight, looking towards the entrance to the area as the footsteps stopped and Dimitri himself was standing right there.

Dimitri looked disheveled. His perfectly messy hair was just messy now, there were heavy bags under his eyes that were dimmed as though he was staring at nothing in particular. He was still wearing his uniform with his cape hanging over an arm rather than flipped over his back.

“Byleth? What are you doing here at this hour?” Dimitri asked worriedly.

“I couldn’t sleep anymore. I wanted a change in scenery.” He shrugged. Dimitri walked over and looked beyond him to the horizon as Byleth was just doing.

“Neither could I. Too much on my mind, I suppose.” Dimitri said tiredly, putting both hands on the rail.

“I have an ear if you want it.” Byleth said, crossing his arms as he stared at the horizon as well.

He heard Dimitri sigh and lower his head.

“How are your injuries?” He asked.

“So the great prince of Faerghus is going to stall.” Sothis commented.

Byleth sighed and just went along with it, let the prince go at his own pace and all.

“Long as I don’t get into any more fights to the death for the next two or so weeks, I’ll be just fine.” Byleth said while rolling his shoulder.

“That’s good to hear.” Dimitri commented. Byleth could hear him rolling his fingers around on the railing. He took a big deep breath. “The attack by the Church is bothering me. They would kill students for what? A sword? Have they that little honor that they would trample over children?” Dimitri was raising his voice the more he spoke, the anger in him rising more and more as it boiled over the surface into his words.

Byleth stared at Dimitri for a moment, slightly confused by his words.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but you were present in Duscur, were you not?”

Dimitri’s whole body seized up as the name of the country was dropped, but he did well to not let it persist. He gave a single nod of acknowledgment.

“You sound much angrier than what I’d expect you to be.”

Dimitri turned his head to Byleth and snarled like an animal. Dimitri rose and got in Byleth’s face.

“Does this not disgust you as well?! Are you okay with this happening?! All this death for some lousy ideal that these men believe to be worth dying for?!”

Byleth closed his eyes and wiped off the spit that Dimitri had flown in his face off of it. He opened his eyes and stared down the still-raging prince.

“It does bother me.”

“You don’t look like it.”

“Because I’ve seen it happen, time and time again.”

“And what? Because you see it happen all the time, that means it’s okay?”

“It’s part of being human, Dimitri. We want to leave a mark on this world, and if dying for it means we will, then so be it.”

“No one should have to die to do that, it’s not reasonable.”

“Tell that to the people you killed today.”

Dimitri finally slowed his snarl down to a small scowl as he stared down Byleth, whose face was as stoic as ever.

“What about the rest of it, that all this death is for some idea that we don’t even know?”

Byleth stayed silent for a moment.

“What do you live for?”

Dimitri’s face grew scrunched.

“What?”

“What’s your goal? What are you going to do once you leave this academy.”

“I…”

Dimitri shut himself up and looked at the ground, his scowl turn into just a frown.

“I don’t believe you will get very far with simply talking to the boy. His trauma will not go away from your words alone.”

_Clearly. Best leave him alone._

“Get back to me on that later, Dimitri. I hope your sleep comes to you.”

Byleth walked away from the balcony and Dimitri, sparing not even a glance at the reflective prince.

* * *

“Hanneman? I heard you wanted to see me?”

Byleth entered the messy study and office of the Golden Deer’s professor and Crest fanatic. The day after the fight with the Death Knight, Hanneman had requested Byleth’s presence in his office to discuss something. With Hanneman, there wasn’t much use in guessing, it was either one of two things: Crests, or Crests. Hanneman had his head and hands buried in about four books at once, which was both an incredible feat and one that defied the laws of nature; but if it had to do with Crests, Hanneman would find a way, that’s just what he does. He didn’t immediately respond to Byleth’s greeting, so Byleth came right in front of Hanneman’s desk.

“Hanneman?”

Nothing.

“Hanneman.”

The professor finally noticed Byleth’s presence and rose his head from the book that was right in front of him, a look of pure contempt for having been interrupted but once noticing who was in front of him, he quickly adorned his normal excitable look. He stood up quickly and straightened out his coat.

“Byleth! Thank you, thank you for coming. I have something important to share with you.”

Byleth stayed quiet as Hanneman was gathering specific books and pieces of paper around his desk into a slightly organized pile. It was a pure spectacle, he was picking up texts in a precision that was unlike anything Byleth had ever seen before; he had seen archer’s crack their own arrows on a target before, but that paled in comparison to what he was right in front of. Only when he was finally done collecting relevant papers and books and reviewing them did he finally look back up.

“It has to do with your own Crest.”

Byleth held the grip of his sword as he leaned on one side out of habit. The weapon started to surge with energy and hum, making Byleth quickly take his hand off of it.

“I’ve been told that you are not aware of a lot of the lore of the Church, so I’ll tell you only what you need know.” Hanneman shifted around. “The Sword of the Creator has been linked to two distinct characters of yore: the Goddess herself, and Nemesis, the Liberation King. Nemesis was the one in ancient times, around a hundred years after the advent of the empire, to liberate Foldan from the wicked gods that ruled it, hence the title. That sword was a gift from the Goddess to aid in his effort, and it requires the Crest of the Goddess in order to use. Tell me, Byleth, have noticed anything different in your fighting over the past few months?”

Byleth nodded.

“Yes, I feel stronger and less fatigued after long battles, and…”

“And?” Hanneman asked with a quizzical look.

“During my fight with the Death Knight, my Crest started to glow through my hand, and I somehow cut right through his armor.”

Hanneman’s eyes lit up with a childlike wonder.

“That confirms it! Confirms it!”

Hanneman stepped out from around his desk to mere inches in front of Byleth’s face. A broad and wondrous smile spread from ear-to-ear.

“You, young Byleth, bear the Crest of Flames. The very Crest of the Goddess herself!”

Byleth blinked.

“So… am I… related to her?” Byleth asked slowly as if the words were as confusing to say as they were to hear.

“That is indeed what it means!” Hanneman was mere inches away from jumping up and down like a student. “All Crests are signs of the relation that holders are descendent's from the Ten Elites, the ones who originally bore crests and aided Nemesis with the liberation of Fodlan.”

“Question, who were the Ten Elites, exactly?” Byleth asked.

“As I said, they were the first bearers of Crests and the Heroes’ relics, like the one you have yourself. They helped Nemesis liberate Fodlan, yet like him, eventually grew arrogant and malevolent to the people who they saved, turning Fodlan into a continent-wide battlefield between each other. It was then that the Four Saints and Seiros herself aligned with the empire and brought them to justice.” Hanneman almost stopped but continued after he blinked in silence. “The Four Saints were allies of Saint Seiros, there isn’t a lot of information on exactly what they were, but they are also bearers of Crests and founders of a few noteworthy noble lines. It can be assumed safely that they are related to the Goddess, whether it be similar to the Elites or otherwise is not known.”

Byleth stayed quiet and looked at some lining bookshelves as he processed… all of that.

“I… see.” He mumbled after a few moments of reading book titles.

“Back on topic. If you bear the Crest of Flames, then your father might bear it as well!”

Byleth cut him off.

“My father said that he bares no Crest, to his knowledge, anyway.”

“Oh, then I must have him in for testing! There are so many questions, so many papers to write, so much research to be done, so many revelations to be made!”

Hanneman hurriedly ran behind his desk and brushed off all of the papers he made sort of neatly stacked in the center of it off the desk and onto the floor. He ran to a bookshelf on the other side of the room, picked out a few volumes like the room was but an extension of his own mind, and ran back to his desk to begin his research. As soon as he opened one book, he forgot Byleth’s very presence in the room and receded into the confines of his own mind and creativity.

Byleth himself sighed and turned and walked away. He was lucky to get the man out of his own research once, twice was a feat only the Goddess herself could do.

Byleth shut the door behind him and stared at the sword that dangled on his hip.

“The Crest of Flames. Interesting.” Sothis commented.

_Sothis, glad you’re here. I have a question for you._

“Oh? What might it be?”

_When I almost died the night we met, you said something similar._

“I… did?” She asked, confusion leaking throughout her voice and Byleth’s own mind.

Byleth began walking down the hall and to his office as he remembered some of her first words to him.

_You called me ‘he who bears the flames within’ or something like that._

Sothis was quiet for a while. Byleth waited for her response as he opened the door to his office and closed the door behind him. Sothis sprouted out of his mind and sat on one of the couches in front of his desk, crossing her legs as she put on her thinking face with a hand on her chin, her eyes down to the floor. Byleth walked past her and sat at his own desk, pulling out paperwork for the Lonato mission that still had to be done.

“Do you not remember?” Byleth whispered as he pulled out a quill and ink to start his mind-numbing but necessary duty.

“I do, but I do not recall why. The words simply came to me.” Her eyes didn’t move as he responded.

“You were awfully cryptic when we first met.” Byleth commented, starting to scribble his signature on paper after paper after paper.

Sothis made a hum, somewhere between ‘frustrated’ and ‘thoughtful’.

“It annoys me so that I cannot remember anything about my past.” She said with a scrunched up face.

“As I told you before, we will find out together.” Byleth said absently as he signed more and more papers, starting to get a decent pile on one side of his desk.

Sothis still kept her eyes to the ground but grew a smile at the sound of the man’s words.

“You know, for someone called the ‘Ashen Demon’, you can be quite sentimental.” She commented.

“I have my moments, as you are well aware.” Byleth said, paying her no mind as he continued his work.

Sothis finally looked up from the floorboard she was staring at and watched Byleth do his work, eventually floating over to his desk and taking a seat at the edge of it. She sat with her head looking over her shoulder as Byleth knocked off papers faster than he could pop off people in a battle.

“I’m impressed, at this rate, you will be done before the clock hits noon.” She commented.

“You get used to it.”

And so he was. Byleth continued scribbling his signature, in varying sizes and styles, until he finally hit the middle of his pile that he had to plow through. From the look of the light from outside the window, Sothis was correct that at this pace he would be done before noon, perhaps the hour so long as no interruptions seek him out.

But alas, Byleth was never the lucky one.

A few sharp raps came at his door, causing Sothis to jump but remain seated at his desk. Byleth groaned and rubbed his face with his hand.

“Come in.”

“Pardon me.” A man with a gentle voice said from behind the door before it opened.

A man stepped in and closed the door behind him, approaching Byleth’s desk and giving him a bow. The man was around forty, with long brown hair, and dressed in a black robe with red designs that demonstrated his position as a cardinal of the Church. Byleth didn’t have many dealings with the religious sect of the Church other than Rhea and Seteth, thank the Goddess, so he wasn’t close to many of them. He did frequently encounter members of the clergy, however, as he designated escort parties on pilgrimages or missionary work or some such, but he did not recognize the man in front of him, even from an earlier glance. He rose from his bow and looked Byleth in the eye, as he was dissected and sized up by Sothis and Byleth.

“Pardon me for the interruption, my name is Aelfric, a cardinal of the Church. I’m pleased to finally meet you, Captain.”

“I don’t speak with the clergy very often, but I’ve never even seen you around.” Byleth commented.

“That would be the reason I’ve come to you today.”

“How so?” Byleth asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you heard of the Abyss?” Aelfric asked.

Byleth had heard of it in passing and in hushed whispers around the monastery. He had no idea what it actually was, but the name’s connotation spoke to what it could possibly mean.

“Just in passing.”

Aelfric’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened momentarily.

“I’m surprised, I would think that the archbishop would talk to you about it.” He recovered from his surprise. “The Abyss is an underground section of Garreg Mach that has it’s own town and settlement.”

Byleth tilted his head. How could he possibly not hear of a second settlement underneath the very settlement that he heads security of? Perhaps it was how reinforcements of the Western Sect managed to get inside the monastery walls. Aelfric continued as Byleth pondered.

“A lot of its inhabitants are people running from something, merchants, or people with nowhere else to go. In fact, the Abyss has a treaty with the archbishop, a non-aggression pact of sorts.”

“You don’t attack us, we don’t attack you.” Byleth nodded.

“Indeed. I serve as caretaker of the Abyss, and envoy for the Church. I wish to unite our two peoples, as we share the same space. I’ve put in requests for help with food, security, and other such things but I’ve not heard a response in a while.”

“Do you put in requests to the archbishop or the Knights directly?” Byleth asked.

“I mostly deal with Lady Rhea, but she does not hold the Abyss in high regard, unfortunately. She’s shy on the subject, I was hoping that speaking with the Captain might give me the assistance I require.”

“Did you try the Captain before me?”

“I did, but he was not… the most…” Aelfric pondered on what he meant. “He wasn’t privy to going above what was required, shall we say.”

Byleth raised his eyebrows quickly. No wonder Rhea really wanted a replacement.

“What would you ask of me?”

“Food, security, whatever you may be able to spare from your station.”

Byleth looked at the stack of signed papers and Sothis behind them; or she was there, but she had moved to float near Aelfric and was currently shoving her face into his as she examined his features. He wasn’t able to delegate the flow of food to a new location, nor medical supplies, nor any particular perishable. What he could do, is send troops to serve as peacekeepers, but it would be such an incredibly risky for two reasons: one Rhea would most likely shoot thunder out her ass in pure rage at doing something that she herself had disapproved of; two, the people of the Abyss might treat it as a threat.

Byleth looked back at the paper he was signing when Aelfric walked in and sighed, scratching his head.

“I cannot do anything about food or medicine. I can control troops, but I’m worried about how the denizens might take them as.”

Aelfric waved him off.

“The most the Abyss has in terms of keeping the peace is a few mercenaries and a few brave residents. So long as they do not bare the insignia of the Church, as long as they come with me, all will be alright.” Aelfric said pleasantly like he’s thought of this all before.

“The Abyss must really trust you to wave off you bringing armed men.”

Aelfric laughed. It was a calming and lighthearted one.

“The smarter ones know that there must be order to the place, it’s full of crime. The one’s not so fortunate understand that it would at least protect them.”

Byleth stared at the cardinal for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“All right, I can spare the men. How does two dozen sound?”

Aelfric’s eyes shined bright, almost as bright as Hanneman’s were the day that Byleth said that he was interested in Crests. He nodded fervently and extended his hand for a handshake to which Byleth reciprocated.

“That sounds perfect! Thank you, Captain, I cannot express how grateful I am.”

Byleth let go of his hand and shook his head.

“I’ve got some paperwork for reassignment to go through with that and as you can see,” He gestured to his paper-covered desk. “I am currently in the deep end in it. See me in about two weeks, I should have everything ready by then.”

Aelfric bowed at the waist to Byleth.

“Of course, Captain. Thank you again. I will see you then.”

Aelfric, now with a pep in his step, turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sothis stopped floating and returned to the lip of the desk that served as her seat. She mirrored Byleth’s orientation so that she wouldn’t have to turn her head as far to look at him. Byleth himself sighed and got back to work.

“More paperwork. Great.” Byleth let out a weary piece of sarcasm. Sothis giggled.

“The Abyss? How interesting. Do you think that we will ever see it for ourselves?” Sothis asked, watching Byleth get back into the groove of drawing doodles on papers that were supposed to be his signature.

Byleth stopped his flow completely and ran his hand through his hair before looking Sothis directly in the eyes. He looked bored.

“With our luck, I’d be surprised if this was the last we hear about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is sponsored by bury the light for making me MOTIVATED
> 
> the death knight fight is one of the scenes i was most looking forward to since i got the idea for this. it was very fun.
> 
> originally it was annette or Mercedes to follow byleth around after the fight, but with the way the fight came out there weren't many options left, hence lysithea to make it seem like I'm shamelessly playing favorites. which I'm definitely not, nope, no way.
> 
> dimitri gets his turn in 'house leader meets byleth in the dead of night after a major battle'. it will come back for season 2 later.
> 
> that's all i got. thanks for reading. peace


	7. Diamond Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gore gore gore in the section with the ambush if that bothers anybody.

“Oh, for the love of…”

Byleth pinched his nose as he stared at a humongous hole in the wall that lay in an unwatched part of the monastery, a tunnel that was brightened by torchlight went right through the brick and mortar that made up the outer walls of the monastery. This one, however, lay straight to the underground and lead somewhere deeper underground. Undoubtedly, he would hear no end of ranting from Rhea of how he could possibly have this slip under his nose, only to be informed by Claude of all people.

“Are you… sure that you saw that individual run through here?” Dimitri asked.

Why all three house leaders were with him, he had no idea. Dimitri wanted to most likely do some princely duty, and Edelgard was here for either a challenge or that she was that bored. Seeing as how this was the dead of night, it could be anything.

“Unless it was a trick of the moon-shaped light, then I’m positive.” Claude said, staring dead ahead at the tunnel.

“As odd as it is to say, I believe Claude’s story.” Edelgard relented.

Byleth took his hand away from the bridge of his nose and glanced at Claude.

“You said they ran by how long ago?” He asked. Claude shrugged.

“I’d say maybe twenty minutes or so. It took a while to track you down.”

Byleth’s turn to shrug.

“Yes, well, blame the cardinal for that.”

If Byleth knew how much work it would be to assist Aelfric in organizing a small group of knights to enter the Abyss and serve under him, then he would’ve told the cardinal to get out of his office as soon as he saw his funny outfit walk through the door. The paperwork was manageable, if tedious, but finding people who fit the bill of ‘not minding going to a dark and underground section of the monastery inhabited by criminals and general unwantables’ was a task that he greatly miscalculated. The tasks had him go deep into work after the sun went down to fulfill the request, organizing men had never been so difficult.

“In any case, I think we should begin our investigation, Captain. What say you and I go down there and start ruffling up trouble?” Claude asked with a smug grin.

Byleth absently trickled his fingers around the grip of his sword. The weapon vibrating lightly every time his fingers grazed the weapon, red electricity filling the spaces as his digits lifted off.

“I don’t mind.”

“And what of us?” Edelgard asked, crossing her arms and donning an unimpressed look.

Claude flashed his best Claude smile.

“You two highnesses can stay up here, where the air is clean, the sun shines, and doesn’t smell like small animal defecant. The Cap’ and I will investigate this and be back before the sun rises.”

If Edelgard and Dimitri could deadpan any harder, they would be dead for real.

“And let you hog all the credit for yourself? In your dreams, Claude.” Edelgard said, flipping her hair.

“For the most part, what she said.” Dimitri said, crossing his arms.

Claude looked at Byleth, who was still staring down the tunnel to the underground like they were having their own personal staring contest.

“Do you think this is the entrance to the Abyss the cardinal spoke of?” Sothis asked.

_I would be comfortable betting all my material possessions on it._

“Fine, you all can come.”

Dimitri and Edelgard nodded their thanks, and Claude sighed while running a hand through his hair.

“Fine, fine, but if they puke because they can’t handle bad smells then I’m not cleaning it up nor am I carrying them back up.”

Edelgard and Dimitri both shared a glance, a shake of their heads, and a sigh of pity. Then they both looked at Byleth for what they should do.

“Shall we get others? Or will the four of us suffice?” Dimitri asked.

Byleth shook his head.

“The four of us will do, I think. If we need more men then we can always come back the way we came.”

Claude threw his hands behind his head.

“As long as you think so, I don’t mind. Shall we get this grand expedition underway?” He asked.

“We shall. Lead the way, Byleth.” Edelgard added. Dimitri added a nod of his own to show he was ready.

Byleth rested his palm on the hilt of his sword as he lead the descent into the ominous tunnel that undoubtedly lead to the Abyss of legend. The sword served as a small bit of light on top of the already dim glow of torchlight that bounced off the walls. The tunnel that resembled a hasty mining shaft gave way to a more formal structure: a brick hallway that matched some of the older bits of the monastery. Torches were set up around the tunnel in set patterns, and despite the dust that kicked up when their boots hit the floor, this tunnel looked fairly well-kept for an underground passage.

Which made the hairs on Byleth’s neck start to stand. If it was taken care of, then it was used fairly often. If it was used fairly often, then there would most likely be someone waiting for them once they crossed a certain threshold.

The student’s necks were on their own swivels, glancing around the hall like it wasn’t just a bunch of bricks stacked on top of each other, but an ancient ruin with untold riches and discoveries.

“You know, I remember hearing about a series of underground passages underneath Garreg Mach.” Dimitri said.

“As do I, tales say they are barely any younger than the monastery itself.” Edelgard added.

“Either way, I’m fairly sure that our bandit will be just as lost as we are. Right, Cap’?” Claude said in his Claude way.

Byleth was too focused on the opening in front of them. It was an opening to a room, yes, but it looked like they just knocked down a wall to make it. It made Byleth think that these… Abyssians, was more of the practical type; usefulness over appearances and all that.

“Quiet. Room up ahead. Be ready to fight.”

The three house leaders gave their scattered acknowledgments. Byleth came to the ‘door’ and checked his corners, which were clear, then making his way inside. The torches were closer together, the room was brighter than the tunnel. It made it feel a little bit more inhabited. The room was open enough, with scattered hallways that were preceded by stairs lining the walls. There was another doorway, a bigger one, in the center of the long wall.

“Speaking of inhabited, you are not alone.” Sothis said.

_Yes, I noticed. I can’t tell how many, though._

What Byleth could tell, was the sudden drop in temperature around him. He let out a breath from his mouth and saw it, and below it at his very feet, were the small inklings of ice starting to pile around where he stood.

“Scatter!” Byleth yelled.

The four leaped in opposite directions as the ice that was building exploded; a tall and jagged spike of ice rose from where the four were standing. It shattered in a display of snowflakes that fell slowly to the ground.

Byleth drew his sword as he tried to locate the presence in the room he felt earlier. Who the hell could possibly know Fimulvetr? That’s a high-level spell.

He didn’t have much more time to think as purple orbs of a Banshee spell flew through the air and at him. He rolled to the side and sprinted the long way around to their source. As long as he kept moving, the spell wouldn’t hit , and its trajectory would betray the source location. Running up a staircase to an elevated position and leaping off of it, he found himself in front of another doorway. Behind the threshold stood two women.

One was a pale, blonde, with purple eyes, and a much fancier dress than something he was expecting of someone living in a place called the Abyss. Her manicured hand was still smoking with the remnants of the ice spell that was fired at him earlier. Her other hand was on her hip as she held a self-satisfied smile directed at him.

The other was a redhead with eyes to match, and a complexion similar to Claude. She was dressed a little more informally than her compatriot: a jacket, skirt, and knee-high boots. Their color scheme of black, white, and purple matched each other, too; perhaps a kind of uniform.

Byleth rushed forward, raising his sword to ready a strike. Well ahead of him, the doorway closed with a heavy iron gate that cut the girls off from Byleth. The blonde girl’s smile got wider as the gate kicked up dust off the brick floor. More dust was kicked up from the echoes of the footfalls of the students that were behind him.

“Well, this is just peachy.” Claude commented.

“Indeed.” Dimitri added.

“Ideas, anyone?” Edelgard asked.

Byleth did.

He took a step forward, brandishing the Sword of the Creator, and let it hang by his side. He raised it.

“Stand back.” He said.

He swung the sword, its blade loosening and spinning around one of the grates of the gate and wrapping around it. He pulled on it to test if it was snug enough. He grit his teeth and felt his left-hand glow as the Crest of Flames shone through his glove and he pulled with all his might on the grip. The gate started shaking, then budged off the ground, and with one final heave, Byleth pulled the gate out of its slot and onto the ground. It now served as little more than a speed bump.

His actions gave way to an interesting tidbit, the sounds of muffled gasps around the corners of the walls that once were next to the gate. Two men from the sound of it. They knew that he was going to break down the gate, so they assumed he would get cocky and charge threw? Not a terrible plan, but assuming the other side is going to make a mistake when you haven’t done your homework is, no way about it, a bad call.

One that these people would pay for.

If the students behind him were at all shocked at his display, they quickly got over it and rushed to his side as they formed a four-man wall across the two confused girls. They stayed quiet as they awaited his orders.

If the enemy is standing their ground, then their only advantages would be the ambush, the choke point, and maybe superior firepower. Their position is interesting, but not invulnerable. The tactic Byleth was going to use was normally used in areas with vegetation but it would work well enough without the prolonged duration.

“Edelgard, how have your magic studies been going?” Byleth asked, eyes locked with the blonde girl with the amused eyes.

“Well enough, I suppose?” Edelgard said. “Why do you ask?”

“I have an idea. You and I are going to throw fire right at their feet. It’ll draw the ambush they have set up, or else they’ll choke on the fumes.”

Edelgard made a ‘huh’ look and gave her own nod, waiting for his signal.

“You two, flank the walls,” He addressed the other two. “Once the smoke clears and you hear the sounds of coughing, storm them as they come out, go for the mages first.”

“As you wish.”

“Aye, aye.”

Claude and Dimitri left their place at Byleth’s side and got into proper position next to the wall that formerly had a gate. They were far enough back that they weren’t visible to the enemy.

“Ready?” Byleth addressed Edelgard. She gave a single nod, fire burning in a raised hand in her palm. Byleth raised his own and did the same.

“Now.”

Byleth channeled his energy into his hand and with the aid of his Crest shining, he and Edelgard spewed fire at the ground of the doorway, the flames piled as more were piled on top of each other. Byleth kept an eye on the growing fire as the smoke threatened to engulf the room they were in, but he kept going. Multiple times Edelgard glanced at him as her worry grew higher and higher and clearer and clearer on her face.

As the sounds of coughing came through, he stopped, as did Edelgard. He readied his sword and his students readied their own weapons and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Not so much as a single cough came out of a room that was completely full of smoke.

Byleth noticed a sound from above, a small and very faint one. It sounded like… thunder? An odd thing to hear when you’re Goddess knows how many feet underneath the ground. He looked up.

A dark stormcloud, no bigger than two feet, with blue lightning swirling around. It was no natural stormcloud, it was the source of a Bolting cast.

And it was directly over Edelgard, and it was getting louder.

Byleth dashed towards Edelgard, who was too fixated on the smoke than to notice the imminent threat of electrotherapy above her head. It was getting louder. Byleth was amused by this, even in this situation, that this girl who was as bright as she was can’t even notice the increasingly loud sound of thunder above her head.

Byleth grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. She had never noticed his approach and made an uncharacteristically loud yelp as she was pulled from her stance to the shield that Byleth made himself. It was just in time, too, as the Bolting had finished charging and burst into the floor in a flourish of blue and black lightning powerful enough to make cracks in the stone that Edelgard was just standing on.

A loud gust of wind came from the smoke-filled room, saving Edelgard from an embarrassing set of teasing from literally every one of her companions. The smoke cleared in an instant and the two that were hiding rushed him and the princess: a bigger man with black hair, and one that was of more normal size and purple hair.

Edelgard regained her composure and went back-to-back with Byleth. He raised his own sword as the purple-haired one came after him. He attacked with quick thrusts and was an oddly defensive fighter for just how much a blitzkrieg their plan of attack was. He tested the waters and tried to keep Byleth on his toes with quick thrusts and only committed when he thought he could riposte after a parry. The fencing style made Byleth think: fencing was a style used by the nobility, and not very practical for actual warfare. Who was this guy?

He still felt Edelgard’s back to his, she only left briefly to make proper swings back at her own enemy but always stayed to cover him.

Swing after swing.

Parry after parry.

Riposte after riposte.

The situation became stagnant. It became boring. This fight had no reason to continue going.

“Edelgard. Duck.”

Edelgard did what he asked without hesitation.

Byleth dislodged the Sword of the Creator, tightening his grip. The unraveled blade fell to the floor, the energy spiking in its ominous lightning-shaped form. He raised it and felt his Crest’s power flow through his arm. He swung horizontally across his body the blade extending farther than he’s ever seen it in the short time that it has been in his possession. He swung the blade over Edelgard’s lower form and it went flying over her head, it whipped around his whole body in a circle, like a windmill placed on the ground. The two forms they were fighting had to go completely prone to not be disemboweled.

The sword retreated to him and he raised it over his shoulder to do it again.

“That’s enough! We’re done.”

The one in the purple hair spoke up. He stood up, sheathing his sword. He glanced behind him at the taller man lower his fists, gauntlets affixed to them. The two girls that were charging magic lowered their hands and walked towards what Byleth assumed was their leader.

He heard Edelgard grunt as she rose to her full height, and not a minute later, the two sides were facing each other like pieces of a chessboard.

“I know when I’m beat. If I knew you had a whip for a sword I would have spent a little more time trying to steal it.” The purple-haired one snarked at him. Byleth deadpanned.

“The whip part is exclusive to me, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” He smacked his lips. “Oh well. Would’ve been a cool thing to have on my wall.”

“If the banter is quite done with, you all mind explaining who you are?” Edelgard asked, her lack of patience betrayed by the lack of it in her voice.

“Of course, of course. Where are my manners?” The purple one said. “My name is Yuri. I’m the leader of this merry band of misfits, as well as this little place we call home.”

“You’re the leader of the Abyss?” Byleth asked.

“This is the Abyss?” Dimitri cut in.

“Yep.” The girl with red hair said like she didn’t care. From how bored she looked, she probably didn’t. “Yuri’s not the leader. He just cares about it the most.” She blinked. “I’m Hapi, by the way.”

Claude snickered.

“You certainly look it.” He smiled.

“Don’t I.” She said, bored.

“Aw, come on, Hapi. You’re ruining my tough-guy image.”

“You have no tough-guy image. You’re as tough as chalk.”

“Oh, incredibly useful to people as a tool to teach and record things? Thank you for the compliment, Hapi.”

Byleth rubbed the bridge of his nose and sheathed his weapon. This was ridiculous, these kids actually got the upper hand on him? They were the same age as the ones behind him.

“Yes, yes, you kids are all very charming. We’re here on business.” Byleth said.

“Business? Why didn’t you say so?! It’s what we do the best.” The bigger man bombastically said. Loud enough to make his voice bounce off the walls and reverberate like a church. Now that he actually had a closer look at the guy, Byleth was questioning on whether his own outfit could be considered ‘weird’. This guy was wearing an open coat that showed just how many stomach crunches he could do. He had a chain over his chest. Odd.

Now that he was scanning the group, he noticed they were all wearing chains in some way or another. What else, is that the thought he had earlier of them wearing some kind of uniform echoed again. They had matching color schemes and despite some very, very liberal dashes of personalization, they were all most definitely wearing a school uniform.

That was interesting.

“My bad, my name is Balthus von Albrecht. Don’t tell anyone I’m here, by the way.”

“We weren’t going to, but now that you mention it; you got some bounty on your head or something?” Claude remarked with heavy sarcasm. It didn’t reach Balthus’s ears.

“Bounties. Plural.”

Claude blinked, stared, and shook his head.

“You know what? I don’t want to get added to it so I won’t ask.”

“What might bring you four here?” The blonde girl asked. “We were on the lookout for a group of roaming thieves who have been in and out of the Abyss.” The girl was remarkably well-read from how she spoke. She might be a noble.

Byleth’s remark on how she spoke almost made what she said go right over his head. He blinked.

“You were?” Byleth asked.

“Indeed. For a few nights now they’ve left and returned through the very tunnel that you came from. We assumed we had them cornered, but we would have dealt with such thieves easily.” She said.

“We saw a few suspicious individuals roaming through the monastery and tracked them back down through here. We are on the search for them as well.” Dimitri said.

“How very interesting. This might be a blessing from the Goddess herself.” Yuri said. He glanced at his followers. “How about we bring you to our welcoming town? We can regroup and go over what we know, together, and go from there. What do you say?”

Yuri’s words made his followers lighten up a little. Except for Hapi, she didn’t ever look happy.

“I have no objection.” Dimitri said.

“Sounds like it’d be good for the lot of us. Eight heads are better than four, as they say.” Claude said.

Edelgard didn’t say anything, making Byleth look at her. Her eyes were drilling a hole into the blonde girl who had yet to introduce herself. She felt his eyes and gave a quiet nod.

“Works for us.” Byleth said. “Lead the way.”

* * *

“You’re Constance?! Constance von Nuvelle?”

“The one and only! Are you familiar with my works of brilliance?”

“Constance, I’m Edelgard.”

“Edelgard?!”

Yuri lead the now octet down several dark and foreboding hallways and passages to a dark and foreboding little settlement in the underground of Garreg Mach. About halfway or so through, the blonde girl started attaching her full name somewhere in every sentence she spoke. Byleth couldn’t tell if it was from arrogance, confidence, or self-pity that she felt the need to, but it wasn’t annoying enough to him to make her stop, and he got the odd feeling that even if he tried, that she wouldn’t.

The name meant something to Edelgard as she absorbed the name, but it wasn’t until about the fifth reciting of it that she actually connected the dots. Constance von Nuvelle was part of an imperial house of nobles, and they were acquainted as children at one point or another.

“I hardly recognized you with your white hair, Edelgard, it suits you.” Constance said with a smile as they walked side by side behind him.

“Yes, well, you look well yourself, Constance.” She gave a bittersweet smile. “I’m glad you’re circumstances aren’t enough to make you any less confident.”

“If anything, they are but another obstacle to be overcome.”

This was all going over Byleth’s head. Edelgard didn’t always have white hair? Constance has ‘circumstances’? The hell was going on.

“I see you’re as lost as I am.” Yuri remarked from his side. “Well, half as.” Byleth looked at him.

“Half?”

“In regards to the imperial princess, I haven’t the foggiest why she dyed her hair.” Yuri conceded. “Constance’s deal, I’m aware of. Long story short, after some unfortunate dealings, her house was dissolved of its status, land, and prestige and her parents were hunted down like cattle. She only survived because she happened to not be on the battlefield they were on. One thing lead to another and now she’s here, searching for a way to restore her name to its former glory.

Byleth glanced behind him at Constance, who was shining like the sun itself as she chatted and laughed with Edelgard.

“She doesn’t look that bothered.” Byleth said.

“Yeah, but as I’m sure you know, trauma doesn’t necessarily show itself.”

“That it doesn’t.”

Yuri stayed quiet and so did Byleth.

“I’ve gotta ask about your sword there. I wasn’t expecting to see a blender in a place like the Abyss.” Yuri broke the silence.

“A what?” Byleth asked.

“It’s a…” He trailed off and shook his head. “Nevermind that. What is it, exactly?”

Byleth absentmindedly gripped the sword by the grip, like a parent protecting its child, except this child can cover itself in an evil aura whenever the parent touches it. Yuri raised his eyebrows.

“I would hold my tongue on the sword, Byleth. This Yuri is a… he seems like quite the schemer.” Sothis said.

_On that, I agree with you. I don’t see the harm in telling him that I have a sword gifted by the Goddess though. If anything, he might get intimidated._

“This boy does not seem the type to be intimidated, but by all means, answer how you like.”

Byleth took his hand off his sword.

“It’s a Heroes’ Relic. Mine own.” Byleth said. He went halfway with Sothis’s suggestion.

“Well, well, we’ve got a regular V.I.P in the Abyss this time.” Yuri commented.

“Don’t do that.” Byleth deadpanned.

Yuri held whatever quip he undoubtedly had and stared at Byleth. His constant feeling that he was having a good time went away for a second, just one, before it came back in the form of an easy-going smile that Byleth had gotten used to in the short hours that he had known him.

Byleth couldn’t blame him, he would be suspicious of himself as well.

“As would I, but I’m more suspicious of this boy at the moment.” Sothis said.

_What gives you that impression?_

“This boy is not afraid of death, of staring at it, nor of facing it.”

Byleth looked at Yuri, staring in front of himself as he lead the march.

“It’s not just him. All of his companions are the same. They have looked it in the eye and came out alive, I’d imagine the only reason they stopped the fight from earlier is that they knew they couldn’t take you down with them.”

_You make it sound like they went through hell._

“I believe so, it’s the only thing that keeps them together. If any of them found the thing that they were looking for, they would leave in a heartbeat.”

_Lovely. More kids I have things in common with._

“We’re here.”

Byleth’s daydream was interrupted by the voice of Yuri, signaling their arrival at the place they call home.

The Abyss.

From the looks of things, the fact that this place could even be called the Abyss is a testament to just how easily scared the Church is; perhaps it was something that irked Rhea. This wasn’t a deep dark pit of despair or anything. It was a simple town. A bit grimy and unclean, a few rundown buildings here and there, a couple of places that haven’t been cleaned in weeks judging from the smell that reeked from there; this was just another down-on-it’s luck town, not a seething settlement of vagabonds and highwaymen that were beyond redemption.

It resembled the kids that lead him there, but they were less stinky.

At the very second that they arrived, Yuri was quickly hounded by many people of varying importance: regular citizens, mercenary types, and even a few of the guards he sent down here. The guards who recognized Byleth gave him simple nods, Byleth gave them explicit orders to not directly greet him should they meet while here. He didn’t want them blowing their cover of whatever the cardinal had given them. Yuri was quickly whisked away by his many admirers and gave him free rein of the place. The three house leaders were in riveting conversations with the other Abyssians: Dimitri and Balthus, Claude and Hapi, Edelgard and Constance.

Byleth took this opportunity to look around the place.

Walking around the place and chatting with a few of its denizens, Byleth concluded that this place could offer the monastery no threat, even if they really tried. This was simply a town in varying degrees of destitution. They had a blacksmith, a regular marketplace, though with its odd assortment of goods and structure it’d be more accurate to call it a bazaar, and even a mercenary hiring station. According to what Aelfric said earlier about the agreement between this place and the church, Byleth had figured that this place may have actually held a threat, however small, to the surface. Walking around it, Byleth couldn’t disagree with that more.

Which meant Rhea had some reason to not want to interact here.

Byleth’s reverie was cut off by a room that caught his attention. A room to his side, lit by dim candlelight and almost half caved in on itself, rubble served as decorations on the far end of the room. Stepping inside, there were many bookshelves lined to the ceiling along every inch of the walls.

_A library, huh._

“Even those in hard times can read, Byleth.” Sothis said.

_I didn’t… shut up._

Byleth ignored any reply from the gremlin and started perusing the bookshelves. The shelves were organized by topics, mostly, but were a bit… foreboding in their titles. Shelves were labeled with things Byleth had never heard of before: ‘Agartha’, ‘Zanado’, ‘Nabateans’; some he had: ‘Adrestia’, ‘Faerghus’, ‘Seiros’. He picked up one of the Seiros books as soon as he saw the title, assuming that it would have to do with the Church.

Rather, it was about something new. So he read.

Serios, or Saint Seiros, was a person long ago. She received a ‘gift to guide the lost’ and used it to perform miracles a few decades before the founding of the empire. It was with her help that the first emperor, Wilhelm I, had founded the empire with Serios choosing the land that would eventually become the capital city of Enbarr. Wilhelm began the War of Heroes in an attempt to unite the continent under one banner. He was opposed by Nemesis and his supporters, leading to Seiros killing Nemesis in single combat at a place called the Tailtean Plains and the solidification of the Adrestian Empire as the sole powerhouse of Fodlan.

Wilhelm died at some point during the war and was succeeded by his son, who finished the war in his stead. He was the first of the Hresvelg line and shares the blood of Edelgard.

Centuries later, the nobles of the northern empire began a rebellion of secession, wanting to become their own autonomous country. Led by the first king, Loog Blaiddyd, and a tactician simply known as Pan, they were able to stand toe to toe with the empire for four years and culminating in a decisive victory at the Tailtean Plains. An ensuing peace treaty followed and the Church granted autonomy to the new nation of the Holy Kingdom of Farghus, granting Loog rulership of the monarchy.

…

_Sothis?_

“Yes?”

_Isn’t a lot of this completely different from what we’ve heard before?_

“Such as?”

_Nemesis was called the ‘King of Liberation’, yet in this book, he is called a villain and one of the direct enemies of the church. He used my sword that was ‘gifted by the Goddess’ herself, but why was he opposing the very church she’s worshiped in?_

“A good question. The only answer most likely being that one of these sources is lying to us.”

…

_Another thought._

“Go ahead.”

_If the church worships the Goddess, why is it called the Church of Seiros?_

“That is… also a good question.”

_No ideas?_

“None, I’m afraid. Any answer I have would be only hypotheticals. Keep reading, perhaps the later pages will have answers you seek.”

_Perhaps._

Byleth turned the page.

* * *

Hours later, when Yuri had finally freed himself from the clutches of leadership’s responsibilities, he gathered his comrades and Byleth’s comrades.

Minus Byleth.

“Where is that devil of a leader of yours?” Yuri asked, rubbing his neck. “I hope he isn’t roughing up my people too bad.

“Oh, Cap’? He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Claude joked.

“He tried to smoke us out.” Hapi said. “With fire.”

“Well, it was self-defense.”

“Fair.”

“Any ideas where he may be?” Dimitri asked.

“Normal people would probably be in the kitchen after a fight like that, but I’m sure that guy didn’t even break a sweat.” Balthus said, hand on his hips.

“Perhaps the library? I know I would prefer a book to dealing with you.” Constance winked at Balthus.

The back and forth between Abyssian and house leader continued with more suggestions. Some smart, some very stupid, and Edelgard’s patience was thinning. Dealing with her own house was hard, dealing with Claude was harder, dealing with these bickering ruffians was the worst. Rubbing her forehead, she tuned out any conversation the six were having and walked off; mostly for some quiet, but also to find the wayward Captain. She doubted they even noticed her presence leave, as Balthus’s guffaws were making the rodents squeak and retreat into the holes that lined the walkways of the Abyss.

It was a good thing too, she couldn’t function properly with the damn things in sight. The stone and dark and rats reminded her of another place. A place she could never forget, much less want to. If she did, she would forget the very people that drove her reasons for living on.

Shaking her head and the morbid imagery from her head, Edelgard continued onwards. She kept her eyes and ears open for anything that would reveal Byleth’s location. Despite living in the same place as him for the past two or so months, she really didn’t know too much about him. She knew he liked fighting, fishing, and reading a lot, but as far as interests and hobbies went she knew next to nothing about him.

She doubted that he would be practicing form and techniques in a place like this, so she scratched that off her mental list.

She could hear running water somewhere, but being as that they were in an underground tunnel with rat poop lining the sidewalks and whatever accounted for a sewer system in this place, she scratched that one-off, too.

That left reading. She did often see him reading after days where he taught the classes, or after days where she saw him staring at religious dignitaries or nobles that he didn’t care about. The fact that someone in such a high seat could act so flippant as his own job made her both miffed and amused at the same time. It was a little refreshing after having dealt with stuck up nobles, greedy merchants, and intimidated folk for all her life.

Her feet kept carrying her, step by step, hallway by hallway, room by room. She scoured the streets of the Abyss for any sign of Byleth. Turning another corner to another dimly lit hallway, she almost gave up after a deep sigh. Where could this man possibly be?

The turning of a crisp page answered her question.

Following the source of the sound to a dimly lit room on her right, she entered what looked like a library. Tall bookshelves covered every inch of the room, the parts that weren’t covered by rubble. There were tables and chairs arranged in the middle of the room were arranged eerily similar to how the library in Garreg Mach is arranged.

Sitting at one of those tables, legs crossed and a book in his hand was the very man she was searching for. He hadn’t noticed her approach, his head completely engulfed in the book he was reading.

“Byleth?”

Byleth’s eyes went towards her for less than a second before they returned back to the book. He moved his free hand in a gesture towards the chair next to his.

“Take a seat, I’m almost done.” He said.

Edelgard did what he suggested. She was in no rush to get back to the seven stooges and this was a perfect opportunity for some peace and quiet. She sat with her legs crossed, head on her fist as she looked around the room and waited for Byleth to finish his book. The bookshelves titles were labeled with crude plaques with letters made of iron on a wood base. She could see books on the three nations of Fodlan, books on the noble houses in her own realm like Varley or Aegir, as well the noble houses of other nations. She saw her own name as well. She saw the names of the various churches as well, those of Seiros, as well as the branches that don’t exist anymore, and those of religions long since snuffed out by her hand.

The loud clap of a book closing made her eyes snap to Byleth. He was staring at the closed book in his hands with his normal blank look. He stayed silent as he got up from his seat and returned the book to where he took it, the book with no title on its cover or spine went back into the section called ‘Seiros’.

Interesting. She remembered him saying that he didn’t care for religion.

“Did you… enjoy the book?” Edelgard said, finding this particular silence a bit too dramatic for her liking.

Byleth stayed locked in a one-sided staring contest with the label that read ‘Seiros’. She saw the lump in his throat go down.

“I guess I did.” He turned and looked at her. “It was a book on Seiros and the Church’s history. It was… interesting.” He said, tilting his head.

Edelgard subconsciously tilted her own. It was an odd reaction coming from him like he was questioning his own conclusion. She’s never seen him do that.

“Can you humor me?” He asked, stepping forward and returning to his seat, staring at the floor in front of him.

Edelgard raised her head from her fist and sat up straight.

“Okay.”

“What Crest do you have?”

Edelgard blinked. Interesting question. She didn’t take Byleth to have the same interest that the frantic Hanneman did, but perhaps this was just childlike curiosity. She didn’t see the harm in answering him.

The public one, anyhow.

“Minor Seiros.”

Edelgard was about to say ‘why do you ask?’, but the look that Byleth gave her was icing her words’ ability to formulate.

Byleth was staring at her through the corner of his eye, no longer possessing his normal aloof look, but having a look of emotion that he rarely held even in times of mortal danger and distress. Oddly enough, Edelgard had seen him look like that for a flash back on the night they had met when he was first approaching a bandit right in front of that village.

He was looking at her the same way he would approach a threat.

But as soon as the look came, it vanished into his normal state that could care less. He scratched the back of his neck and then moved his bangs out of his eyes.

“How long it take for you to track me down?” He asked.

Edelgard scoffed and crossed her arms.

“How could I possibly even answer that? We’re underground and I haven’t seen a thing resembling a clock in here.”

Byleth let out a breath through his nose.

“Sorry, haven’t gotten used to it.”

“I found you by accident, the others were way too loud for my liking. When Balthus laughs it echoes off the walls of this cave and multiplies. My ears could’ve bled if I stayed any longer.” Edelgard said.

“Fair enough.” He stayed silent for a moment. “That mean Yuri wants to talk about what’s next?”

“He does, but instead of trying to find you they’ve been shooting back and forths at each other for much too long.”

Byleth rubbed his face.

“I suppose we should grace them with our presence.” He conceded, standing up.

Edelgard mirrored him and started to walk out of the library. She didn’t hear his footsteps behind him and she turned around to look at what was holding him up. He was staring directly at a plaque of a title of a bookshelf, a different one from the Seiros one he was looking at a few minutes ago. He shook his head after a few more seconds and muttered an apology to her and followed her out of the room.

* * *

Byleth had gotten into a mess of staging an ambush. The four residents of the Abyss were to set themselves up as bait, in the middle of an arena that was a few tunnels down from the main settlement, for the thieves that they were both chasing. Byleth and his students would serve as an ambush, as would the men that served as the police force in this place. The arena was three or four miles out from the town, so no matter how much stuff exploded, it wouldn’t affect the town in any amount more than the odd tremor.

Everything went according to plan, they all stayed in position. The thieves took the bait and were ambushed by Yuri’s supporting force, followed by reinforcements in the other direction, which was covered by Byleth and his students. They had numbers, strength, organization, and tactics on their side. It would be easy.

When another wave of reinforcement came, it wasn’t unexpected. All it meant was that this was a larger force at play than they originally expected, no big deal.

What Byleth wasn’t expecting was who the leader of this wave was.

A knight of enormous size, wielding a scythe, and a helm with a skull on it.

The Death Knight.

Byleth was flanked by the students and at the sight of the knight, he felt an immediate flight or fight response, but not for him.

“You three, get back with the others and support them.” Byleth ordered, grip tightening on the Sword of the Creator.

“Byleth, there must be fifteen men with him, you cann-” Dimitri started to protest.

Byleth turned around and looked at him in the eye.

“You will go. Now.”

Dimitri swallowed and gave back one nod, retreating without another word.

Claude glanced at the wave.

“You need any help, Cap’, just holler. My bow’ll be there for you.” He saluted. “Good luck.”

Edelgard was staring at him with a look of worry. She gave no words but held the stare for a moment longer as their eyes came into contact before jogging behind her comrades.

Byleth took a deep breath and marched forward, eyes glued to the red lights that came out of the eyeholes of the helmet that the Death Knight wore. He was gripping his sword so hard that the energy from the blade was firing out in small sparks of lightning onto the stone ground. He stopped twenty-odd feet away from the knight, his backup gathered loosely a few feet behind him.

“We meet again.” The Death Knight’s unnatural voice came out in a loud, raspy voice. “I am surprised to see you here. The Church cares little for this place.”

Byleth stared.

“I think you know best of all, that I’m not like the Church.” He said, flatly.

The Death Knight chuckled lowly.

“You are not.”

Byleth was done with the pleasantries. He raised his sword over his opposite shoulder and swung wide. The blade extended far and swung wide like a pendulum. The knight himself ducked, but his backup wasn’t so lucky. They saw one man against sixteen, they saw one man that could be easily overwhelmed.

They didn’t see the Ashen Demon.

The Sword of the Creator could extend far, very far. Byleth didn’t know how far, but it was capable of going over twenty feet, and that was enough for him.

The blade cut through the whole of the Death Knight’s forces, like a hot knife through butter. Bodies and body parts fell to the ground in loud, wet thuds, their persons making inhuman noises of moans and groans as their lives left their forms as easily as they were cut apart. Pools of blood poured around and mixed with each other, some of the people were still alive for the moment as they continued to writhe in agony, confused as to how the Goddess above had let them experience what it was like to live without feeling your lower half attached to you.

Their voices got lower and lower and weaker and weaker as they died from shock, blood loss, or anything else that comes with getting cut in half.

Byleth’s sword retracted as his sword completed it’s swing, or sweep, depending on who you asked. He let it lay by his side as he watched the Death Knight. He had since risen up from ducking and had his head turned behind him, watching as his compatriots slowly died. He didn’t take his eyes away, he kept watching until the very last voice had spoken, the very last breath had been taken. His head turned eerily back toward Byleth, who had been watching him like a hawk.

He started laughing again, and Byleth swung again.

The Death Knight sidestepped his swing just in time. The Sword of the Creator struck hard into the very stone, a line of impact etched in it. The sword made a slow clatter as it retracted back into it’s original form.

“If we’re going to fight, then let’s fight. If not, get out.”

The Death Knight did not laugh, did not speak, not even make the scratchy and drawn out way of breathing that he did. He simply placed the end of his scythe on the ground, then the purple glow that he used when he teleported the last time slowly engulfed him.

And as soon as he arrived, the Death Knight retreated once again.

Byleth let out a sigh of relief. He was healed from his last bout with him, but he couldn’t say he was looking forward to round two. He just hoped that whenever the time that one of them will die will be, that it wasn’t anytime soon. He turned around and looked at the pile of bodies, of friendlies and enemies, scattered around. They formed a loose kind of trail back to the middle section of the arena that served as the ground for which the bait to stand on. His eyes followed the trail.

Said bait and his students, were all staring at him as they had never seen a man kill fifteen men in one sword swing before.

Seeing no immediate danger left, Byleth sheathed his sword and walked back to regroup with everyone.

“That was… something else.” Yuri said, he made it sound like he was conceding but Byleth was sure that he was just surprised.

“What kind of magic was that?! Lightning?! Dark?!” Constance had gotten in his face as soon as he got within shouting distance and was backpedaling to remain in it while he walked within inside voice distance.

The students were all equally flabbergasted at his display, as Claude and Dimitri had only seen him kill one man a dozen feet away, and Edelgard had only seen him use it while trying to turn a room into an oversized meat slicer. Seeing what the Sword of the Creator was actually capable of in the hands of someone who knew war and battle was something that these students would always remember.

And always fear.

Byleth ignored any quips, comments, or questions when he was in talking distance and posed his own question.

“Everything go well?”

Yuri nodded with a sly grin.

“That it did. We’ve got everyone in a nice mass grave here, and with a lack of any more reinforcements, I’d say we are done here.”

“Great.” Byleth ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sweaty at all. “I assume you’ve got clean up ready?”

“Yep, the men here will gather them and bury them somewhere on the surface.” Yuri turned to address the new men that came onto the scene that he never noticed, probably when he was fighting the Death Knight. “At your leisure, gentlemen.”

The men gave their salute with fists to their chests, as mercenaries normally do, and moved past him to get to work.

One, however, did something else.

He stopped directly from Yuri and drew a dagger from a sheath on his back, and being only a foot or so away from him, he could kill Yuri without anyone being able to do anything. Yuri had only barely acknowledged him drawing his dagger when the mercenary had started to swing.

Then a white light came, not a blinding one, but a soft one with small yellow lights flickering within.

If Byleth was not mistaken, such colors and patterns were the signs of a Warp spell being used. Lo and behold, someone knew had arrived at the scene, holding the would-be assassin’s arm in a vice grip and knocking the dagger out of his hand. The newcomer wore red and black robes, with long brown hair that reached past his shoulders.

If Byleth wasn’t mistaken this was a cardinal, and he only knew of one cardinal that would grace the Abyss with his presence.

“Hello, Aelfric.” Byleth greeted.

Aelfric angled his head behind him and gave Byleth a smile.

“Hello, Captain.” He turned back toward the assassin and gestured toward Balthus.

Byleth was expecting Balthus to just use his massive form and strength and escort the man to the Abyssian version of a prison cell, but Balthus had something different in mind. He strolled up to the man and hit him with the hardest haymaker Byleth had ever seen.

Well, same result with probably much less effort. He couldn’t criticize the results, they were damn efficient.

Aelfric wiped his hands together and turned back to Byleth. He offered his normal kind smile.

“I was never expecting to meet you in the Abyss, Captain. I would think that the Archbishop would do her best to keep you away from this place.”

Byleth shrugged.

“I’m here on business, not pleasure, this time.”

Aelfric turned his smile towards the four residents of the Abyss.

“I am relieved I wasn’t too late.”

“Nah, you got here just in time.” Balthus said. “Thanks for the backup.”

“Woah, woah, back up.” Yuri interrupted with his hands raised. “Captain?”

Byleth looked back at Yuri.

“Have I not introduced myself?”

Four kids shook their heads. Byleth shook his own. Living in a place where everyone knew who you were made it so he forgot to even introduce himself. If his father was here, he would be pissing himself.

“Sorry, I’ll do it now, then.” He raised his fist to his chest. “My name is Byleth Eisner, Captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

Yuri blinked.

Hapi blinked.

Constance blinked.

Balthus blinked.

Claude quietly snickered.

“You’re the Captain? Of the whole Knights? Of Seiros?” Hapi asked, something other than being bored leaking into her voice for the first time since he’s come in here.

“Yes.” Byleth said.

“Would you look at that?” Yuri laughed. “When I said ‘V.I.P’ earlier I was joking, but I guess it really was.”

“Explains why you fight so well.” Balthus added.

“I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds, but you said ‘Eisner’? Are you Jeralt’s son?” Aelfric asked.

Byleth nodded.

“I am.”

Aelfric chuckled softly.

“I didn’t know that, you look nothing like him.” His eyebrows arched up to a point and his smile no longer reached his eyes. They were peering at something long since lost. “You look just like her, however.”

Byleth tilted his head.

“Her?”

“Sitri. Your mother.”

* * *

“Aelfric.”

In the time since Aelfric had jumped between Yuri and a dagger, that assassin had been taken prisoner, the arena had been cleaned up, and Aelfric had promised Byleth that he would tell him what he could about his mother. He wanted that more than anything right now, so after a short nap, he tracked Aelfric to the library he was in earlier to take him up on his offer.

“Byleth, I was expecting you sooner, to be honest.” Aelfric addressed him with his normal politeness and a smile whose sereneness had definitely been inspired by Rhea’s. He was seated at a table with a book in his hands.

“As much as I want to talk to you, I needed the sleep.” Byleth said, taking a seat across from Aelfric. “You knew my mother?”

Aelfric closed his book and set it down, giving Byleth his full attention.

“I did. We were friends.”

“How well did you know my father?”

“Not as well as her, I’m afraid. Jeralt at one point held your position, and the Knights and the cardinals rarely had reason or even opportunity to interact. We got along well enough, despite us being in opposite professions.”

Byleth stayed silent for a moment, wanting badly to ask what he’s been wanting to ask since he heard Aelfric’s words earlier.

“What can you tell me about her?”

Aelfric’s look became what it was earlier, his eyes glazed over as he thought of simpler times, Byleth was sure.

“She was a quiet girl. She had a condition that didn’t allow her to leave the monastery, she lived her whole life within the walls of Garreg Mach. She loved hearing about the rest of the world, and a love for history and books. She read books on how the other countries worked and stories of the knights of old. It’s part of why she fell in love with Jeralt. He returned and told her stories of his missions, which delighted her. He would return with flowers that he picked on them and gave them to her. She… wasn’t the most expressive woman, much like you, but she would act like a normal girl when she was with your father.”

Byleth looked down at the tabletop and thought.

Sitri. His mother sounded a lot like him. ‘Wasn’t the most expressive’ meant that she couldn’t express her emotions properly, but they always came around when his father was around? He thought about the time after the Red Canyon when Edelgard made a joke and he laughed, or the moment where Lysithea made him genuinely smile, or Sothis’s comments that warmed his heart, or the jokes that Claude would make him smile, or the extreme want to bonk the living hell out of Sylvain when he tried to brag about the panties he stole. When he’s around people whose presence he enjoys, his emotions come out on their own, not like a normal person, but for him, it was a stark contrast.

Perhaps the stronger he feels about them, the stronger his emotions would come out? It’s something that remains to be seen if Byleth could even understand something like love. When he asked his father about it, he said ‘I don’t have a damn clue how to describe it. When you feel it, you’ll know’. He would have to take his word for it.

He picked his head and looked at Aelfric.

“Do I really look like her? My father said the same thing.”

Aelfric nodded.

“You do. Your hair color’s different, but you have her face.”

“What color was her hair?”

“Green.”

…

Oh.

Oh no.

…

“Never thought I’d ever see the two of you in the same room by yourselves.”

Byleth turned his head around so fast he might have gotten whiplash, but with the shock that was surging through his body, he would have never noticed it.

Standing in the doorway to the library where he and Aelfric were talking, stood his father, Jeralt.

“Long time no see, Aelfric. You hunted my son instead of wanting to reunite with an old friend?” Jeralt went further into the room and sat down next to his son like he owned the place.

“If that’s how it looks, then I apologize to you, Jeralt. Byleth here was simply listening to me reminisce about simpler times.”

Jeralt laughed.

“Sure, sure. ‘Simple’s’ definitely way to call it.” Jeralt looked to his son. “How was it down here, kid?”

Byleth gave his father a bored look.

“Well enough. Was a lot quieter before you got here.”

His father laughed again, definitely making sure to be as loud as he could.

Byleth sighed.

“Why are you here, father? I never told Rhea that I was down here.”

Jeralt crossed his arms.

“That’s just the thing, she doesn’t. She’s been searching for you for the past two days that you’ve been down here. Somehow, I’m the only other person to notice that gigantic hole in the wall. I went in figuring to find you down here. Why’d you even come to the Abyss, anyway?”

“The students followed a suspicious person to that tunnel and they went to get me. One thing led to another, and here I am.” Byleth gestured to the air around him.

“You find him?”

“Them. We found them. The locals captured one of them, thanks to Aelfric, and are interrogating him as we speak.”

“Well, well. Not bad, kid.”

Byleth glanced at Aelfric.

“I’ve got to check on them. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” Byleth got up from his seat and nodded at Aelfric. “Thank you, Aelfric.”

“You’re very welcome, Byleth. Give the Wolves my regards.”

Byleth nodded and left them to their reminiscing.

Byleth walked down the dirt lined walkways of the Abyss to the center square that held the marketplace. He returned to his thoughts as he walked a path he had gotten to know well.

Now his father was here. On the plus side, it was another able man. A very able man. On the downside, his father was here.

His mother had green hair. Like a few other people he knew, there was a lot that he would have to ask Rhea, at this point.

The Wolves, according to Aelfric were the fourth house of the Officer’s Academy. Their full name was the Ashen Wolves, a name given by Rhea after Aelfric begged for long enough for Rhea to offer some support to these disillusioned children. Their members were Yuri, Constance, Hapi, and Balthus. It was no coincidence that their clothing looked like uniforms, they were students, probably former ones of the main three. How quickly life can turn itself upside down.

The funny part is that Aelfric’s introduction was not the first time he had heard the name.

If the name was given by Rhea, then that was just another thing he had to ask her about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am turning cindered shadows on its head and drowning it in vodka
> 
> this whole side story is really fun to play, but narrative wise, it's a goddamn nightmare. a lot of this is trying to make it more manageable to write and to digest. for example, it's just byleth and the house leaders, because that whole thing where lindhardt, hilda, and ashe walk up and go "oh, what're u main characters doing here :)" in game makes no sense. as much as I love that, the cast becomes way too big, so a couple of things are getting rainchecks.
> 
> the only shadows in this chapter are foreshadows ;)
> 
> sorry for the longer wait on this one, classes are ramming me in the ass rn. no promises if the next one will be faster, but we'll see.
> 
> that's all I got. thanks for reading. later yall.


	8. God Only Knows

The Hero’s Relics were already something else; supernatural weapons and items that gave the wielder unimaginable power, only to be controlled should they own a Crest of the one who originally used it. Should they not, they will be consumed by the power of the weapon and go not just mad, but their whole body will grow and twist until it becomes not human, but something else, a sizable vessel to store the power that the Crest would normally contain. A Demonic Beast, they are so eloquently called. They possess incredible power, strength, and size, the only thing holding them back is their mind dissolving into a berserk animal.

Byleth ran his hand over his face as he stared at the newly-dubbed Chalice of Beginnings, standing tall and glistening in the center of what he could only guess was the Abyss’s war room. To his standards, if it was a room with just maps on it and a couple of candlesticks, then it’s a war room.

The Wolves and the students had retrieved it when he was talking with Aelfric and his father, with no small degrees of difficulty, as Dimitri reported. They thought they wouldn’t need him, so the teenagers had gone while he was in conversation with Aelfric and returned around the time he had left it. He returned to find an empty room, and later returned to a full room to the teenagers covered in various shades of dirt.

Byleth really didn’t care, so long as the mission was done and nobody was dead.

This Chalice they retrieved, was something he had seen mentioned in the words of the books he had read earlier, not at length, but referenced. It was referenced in bad taste, however, and Byleth had no idea just how sour it was.

Now they sat in this war room, everyone talking over one another with ideas on what to do with it. Byleth was sulking against a pillar watching everyone talk in circles. He wasn’t participating for reasons he had no idea what to do with it. If it was sealed away as they reported, then there might be a good reason as to why, but if it was useful, it could be worth looking into it. He himself was pondering each option while having a staring contest with the cup.

Another voice and footsteps caused him to lose. He blinked and looked in the direction of the noise. It was Aelfric.

“If I might offer a suggestion as to what to do with the Chalice?” He asked, his normal pleasantness radiating from his voice.

The students gave their go-aheads, ranging from enthusiastic ‘yeses’ to begrudged shrugs.

“Would it be possible to leave the relic in my care? I have an idea for its use.”

Byleth’s senses grew muddled.

He has… a use? For a relic that no one knows where it came from, what its use is, or its risks? This normal, unassuming cardinal of the Church has an idea of what to do with it?

Byleth’s eyesight and hearing came back as the overwhelming smell of bullshit hit him.

“I know not why you must use such crude imagery, but I would follow him once this meeting concludes.” Sothis said.

_Read my mind._

The conversation between the cardinal and the students drowned out when he saw someone else hovering the doorway. Out of the corner of the frame, he could see his father listening in like he belonged to hear, but didn’t belong to participate. His father was staring directly at him, the reason as to why Byleth didn’t even need to guess.

“Yuri, come with me, I need your assistance.” Aelfric said to the leader of the Wolves, and the two made their way past Jeralt with little more than a nod. Byleth gave another look to the students, who were conversing amongst their selves. Byleth took this as his best chance to leave.

“You get the feeling I got?” His father asked him as Byleth stepped out.

“Yeah. Aelfric knows exactly what to do with that thing.”

Jeralt crossed his arms and gave a grunt of agreement.

“Mhm, and he has that purple-haired kid in on it.”

Byleth looked down the hall that the two Abyssians went down, trailing their path with his eyes.

“You think it’s something we should be afraid of?”

Jeralt’s eyes followed his son’s.

“As in dangerous?” He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. “Dunno. Aelfric’s never gave me reason to, but I haven’t seen the guy in twenty years. Never know how people can change.”

Byleth looked down the dark hall for a few more moments, crossing his arms.

“I’m going to follow them. I want to know what this use is. You coming?” Byleth asked.

Jeralt looked to the side as he thought, finishing his thought train with a massive shrug.

“Lead the way, kid.”

* * *

Byleth couldn’t fathom how Yuri, this guy who gave off such an impression of being good at planning, could leave the door ajar to whatever room they were about to enter. Byleth signaled his father to stay still and peered through the door.

It resembled a church, for better or worse. Looked like a more archaic version of the one above ground that Rhea herself resided over. Browns instead of whites, aside from the symbol of the Church of Seiros above their heads. The age was apparent, no matter how you looked at it.

Yet as Byleth looked around the room, the differences began to amount to more. There were no pews in the room, the browns were only from wooden furniture and rusted candlesticks that sat on the far sides of the room, against the wall. At the very far side, there was a white runner that stretched from the back wall, down a few steps, and ending just before the door that he and Jeralt were peeking into. On the far side of the room, he could see Aelfric, Yuri, and some of the mercenaries from around the town were crowding around something on the far side. If Byleth could squint, he could barely make out something that was… definitely white, but also… floating? Maybe it was just an odd table.

Whatever it was, it was definitely the object that they were having a discussion over.

“What are you thinking?” His father asked him. Byleth bit his lip and shook his head.

“We’re too far to eavesdrop. The moment we step foot into this room, they’ll know we’re here and we’d be leaving things up to chance.”

“True. But I think that you and I can handle these idiots.”

Byleth squinted his eyes.

“Don’t you remember what happened when the students and I fought the Wolves before? They went toe to toe with us.”

Jeralt gave a quiet chuckle.

“Please, you were with children. You don’t have to worry about collateral with me, you know that.” Jeralt gave a toothy grin to his son.

Byleth blew air out and looked back at the group in the room.

His dad was right, the reason that he couldn’t just take them out when he first fought the Wolves down here was that he was worrying for his own students' safety. There was another reason, of course, and that was because that Yuri and the Wolves had home-field advantage. They knew the area and were using it so well it was like a weapon, but Byleth doubted that Yuri was expecting his plans, whatever they were, to be interrupted this early.

Aelfric, to Byleth’s estimation, didn’t have the balls to be a villain. He was relying on Yuri to do the dirty work, but he didn’t doubt for a second, with Aelfric’s prestige and his hold on the kids, that he wasn’t the mastermind behind whatever was going on.

And so, Byleth supposed, the only way that anything was going to happen was to either wait for them to do their plan or to interrupt them right here and right now.

He would never say it out loud, but he was glad his father was with him. There was no one in this world that he trusted to cover his back on the battlefield than the one whose been doing it for twenty-one years.

“Let’s go in.”

Jeralt gave another grin.

“Lead the way. I’ve got your back.”

Byleth shook his head. Of course he does.

Byleth and his father both raised to their full heights. Giving him one last look, Jeralt gave a nod in return, and Byleth pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the room. They opened with a surprising, yet incredibly dramatic creak. The dozen or so people in the room turned to see the two newcomers to the party.

Byleth couldn’t see their faces from here, but he’d imagine they were quite surprised. Of course, as he got closer that he didn’t have to squint, his imagination proved correct.

Reaching the halfway point of the room, he heard his father’s heavy footsteps come to a resounding halt. To him, it was the loudest thing in the world. Glancing behind him, he saw his father looking ahead, wide-eyed, out of breath, and flushed. Byleth scrunched his face as he traced Jerat’s vision to whatever got him so spooked.

Up ahead, behind Yuri and Aelfric, was what he couldn’t see from outside the room. What he thought was a floating table was a person.

A slender woman, green hair and covered in a white gown, the Chalice of Beginnings lying on her chest and cupped around her hands. Byleth had no idea who it was. 

“…Sitri?”

…

“Oh no…” Sothis whispered to herself, but Byleth couldn't hear it.

Byleth looked back at his father and again to the woman on the other side, he stared at her. He looked at her, staying silent. Her green hair brought back memories, not of his own and not of his mother. They were of others, flashes of images from a life he had never lived.

Byleth put a hand over his still heart and felt the world drain to gray around him. The only colors in the world being the green of her hair, and the gold of the Chalice of Beginnings that lay on her chest. Slowly, everything started to connect. His mother, the Chalice, Aelfric’s conversation the other day.

“You’re trying to revive my mother?” Byleth asked, voice quiet but with how quiet the rest of the room was it had zero trouble reaching the ears of Aelfric.

Yuri’s face scrunched up as he looked between Byleth’s stone-cold face, Jeralt’s surprise, the calm face of Aelfric, and the woman that floated above the ground next to him. Yuri, too, was starting to put the pieces together.

“You are correct, I wish to bring her from death.”

Without another word, Byleth heard the heavy footfalls of a charging Jeralt run past him and directly to Aelfric. He brought his spear up to impale the cardinal where he stood, but Aelfric was shielded by a mercenary right next to him. He drew his own sword and shield and prepared to face Jeralt.

Byleth dared not let his comrade, father or not, fight alone. He drew the Sword of the Creator and let it fall, relieving the shield-bearer that blocked his father's strike of his shield. Jeralt took advantage, thrusting into the cardinals' shield like a raging animal.

Byleth took the signal that was never sent and got to work thinning the herd. The nameless hired help that Aelfric had brought with him weren’t anything special, and as normal as they were, they would fall the same. Byleth brought his sword together again, then swung and let the blade fly, piercing one of them straight through the heart. He heaved the blade toward the side. Some of the bodies he hit were with the blade and fell like they were sliced with an ax. Others were hit with the body and with the aid of the supernatural weapon he wielded, they went flying at a supernatural speed; hitting the wall, unconscious.

Byleth looked at the bodies that were strewn about in various positions, states, and pieces. None of them remained upright and he very much doubted they would ever get up in the next hour or so. Instead, he looked at Yuri. For the first time, the kid had a pensive look on his face.

He had no idea what he should do.

On one hand, stay loyal with Aelfric and whatever he may do, but die a gruesome fate as he just saw.

On the other hand, no matter what happened, he would learn the truth of what Aelfric is doing.

Those were the choices that awaited Yuri. For as smart as he was, as cunning as he was, as meticulous as he was; Byleth and Jeralt were in a league far greater than him. Without time, he didn’t deserve to be in the same room as them, swordsmanship-wise.

So, rather than waiting for an answer, possibly in the form of a dagger in the back, Byleth signaled for Yuri to get out of the way with a tilt of his head. Once more, Yuri looked at his benefactor and the Captain, nodded back to Byleth, and got out of the danger zone.

Jeralt was completely in control of the fight, from what he could see. Aelfric could hardly hold his greatshield up, even less repel the Blade Breaker’s strikes for longer than a few minutes. Byleth was positive that the cardinal had a couple of fractures in his forearm, and this battle would be done the very moment his elbow joint decided it couldn’t hold itself together.

As much as both he and his father would undoubtedly like to see that, he wanted to know what the hell he meant by ‘reviving her’. Byleth dashed as fast as his feet could take him. To Aelfric and Yuri, he would a blue-haired blur in the wind. He went behind Aelfric and wrapped a forearm around his neck and pressed the tip of his sword against his neck. Byleth gave his father a look to tell him to stand down, which he did after a heaving sigh.

“Drop your arms, Aelfric. It’s over.” Jeralt said, less angry than Byleth was expecting. Regretful? Maybe?

With a resounding ‘clank’ and ‘thud’, Aelfric dropped his sword and shield to the ground, letting his arms fall by his side in defeat. Byleth could feel him swallow a lump in his throat.

Then Aelfric began to gently weep.

“I just… I just wanted to see her light, again…” He mumbled to himself, tears flowing freely from his clenched eyes.

Byleth could see Jeralt staring at him as calmly as he could act in this situation, but Byleth…

Byleth was feeling something new right now. A feeling in his gut, different than the one that he felt when he and his father were at his mother’s grave. No, this one felt like fire. It was rising up from his core and rising through the rest of his upper body, flowing down his lower. His vision was starting to get smaller, tunnel-visioned, his eyes directly trained on the top of Aelfric’s hair. His hand, his sword arm, was slightly trembling, if he moved it any closer, the cardinal’s neck would be bleeding like a stuck pig. ‘

Yet, as Byleth tried to breathe, tried to calm down and think of reasons to not kill this bastard in cold blood, he could think of anything.

This man dared defile his mother’s body.

This man dared to do this behind her son’s and her husband’s back.

This man dared to act like a friend to him, when all this time, he should’ve beheaded the fucker in his office the day he met him.

And so, Byleth let his blade descend ever so slowly into the neck of Aelfric. He screamed at the slightest touch of the blade, cutting his flesh like it was cold cut meat, blood trickling out of it.

Byleth heard other sounds, they weren’t important.

“Talk.” Byleth’s command came as a single word.

“Don’t you want to see your mother? Alive and well? Like nothing ever happened-.” He tried again to appeal to Byleth, but Byleth answered in kind. He dug his weapon another millimeter deeper into his neck. More blood came out, faster now.

The other noises got louder. They weren’t important. The only things he could hear, should hear, are the sounds of his voice, Aelfric’s, and the ringing in his ear.

“Byleth!”

Byleth blinked as the feeling inside of him quelled itself. He looked to the one who yelled his name. At his side was Rhea. And Seteth. And Yuri. And Alois. And the rest of the students. He didn’t say anything, he just stared at Rhea.

“Let Aelfric go, Byleth.”

His lip twitched as he heard her order, but he let him go. Harshly.

Byleth turned around from them and walked towards the steps that held her mother. She was on the ground now on the top step to a makeshift altar. If she really was floating before, he wasn’t sure now. He got on a knee close to her face and just stared at her.

Here she was. Sitri Eisner. His mother. Looking like she wasn’t dead, her skin was clear and looked like porcelain. Her hair was the healthiest he had ever seen. He didn’t really know what beautiful was, but he could tell she was attractive. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve thought that she was just asleep. The lack of movement in her chest told him all he needs to know.

“Sitri…” He heard Jeralt’s voice next to him. If it was any other person next to him, he would’ve thrown his sword directly through their skull.

Speaking of his sword, he realized he was still holding it, as tightly as if it was the only thing binding him to this world. He threw it to the ground, a few feet away from him.

“That’s her?” Byleth asked quietly, asking a question that didn’t need to be answered.

“Yeah… That’s her….” Jeralt whispered.

Father and son looked at mother and wife. Jeralt got up and walked around him, kneeling on Byleth’s left, next to her head. He took off a glove and put a bare hand on her forehead. He stayed like that for a minute, the only movement coming from his thumb caressing her skin. Byleth just watched.

Jeralt took his hand away before long, putting his glove on once more and wiping the sweat off his face. He shook his head, eyes never leaving her.

“How did this happen to you?” He asked her, quietly.

Of course, no response came.

…

For so long, Byleth had wanted to see his mother. Talk with her. Understand what Jeralt means when he’s more like her than him.

Never in his wildest dreams did he think any part of that wish would ever come true.

“Do you see what I mean when I said you look like her?” Jeralt asked, quietly.

Byleth looked at his mother’s face.

Honestly? Yeah, he did see it.

“I do.” He said quietly.

Jeralt didn’t say anything after that. He heard someone raise their voice from behind him, but Byleth couldn’t be bothered.

“What are we going to do with Aelfric?” Byleth quietly asked.

Jeralt quickly glanced at him.

“The Church don’t take very kindly to necromancers. I’d imagine he doesn’t have much longer before he’s shoved in a cell and executed at a later date.” Jeralt said.

Byleth took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on Sitri.

Byleth glanced to his side, the Sword of the Creator was a few feet away from him.

He got up.

He walked toward the sword.

He picked it up.

He flicked the blood of the mercs and Aelfric off of it.

He turned around.

The only people who could see him were the students and the Wolves. The adults in the room had their backs turned to him.

Byleth took a step forward.

And another.

And another.

And another.

One by one.

Slowly.

He raised the sword.

And swung.

There was no blood.

There were no screams.

There was no time.

Whatever Aelfric had done, his body no longer mattered.

Byleth swung his sword hard enough to cleave the man in two and then some. Yet, Aelfric stood like the sword was just air.

To the horror of everyone, Aelfric spun around to face Byleth.

His mouth was open in a twisted, toothless smile. His eyes were just white.

With a final exhale, Aelfric’s body crumbled to the ground.

Byleth watched in open-mouthed terror as he slid across the ground. Towards the alter.

Towards his mother.

Byleth threw another slice of his sword at him. Didn’t make him even move.

He tried to grab the ankle of him, it fell off like there was nothing there.

Byleth could only sit in watch as Aelfric climbed on top of Sitri’s body, and on contact, they exploded in a blast of white light.

Byleth brought up both his arms to shield his eyes from the light, as the light drowned out both his vision as well as the screams and yells of the people behind him.

As fast as the light came, just as fast didn’t drown out. He lowered his arms and was face to face with a sight of his very nightmares.

The bodies of Aelfric and his mother were gone.

They were replaced by something he never hoped to see again.

A Demonic Beast.

That fucking Chalice was a Heroes’ Relic. They did something wrong, and they paid the price for it. That damnable cardinal, and his mother’s body.

The beast was as massive, at least a dozen feet more. It stood on four grotesque, bird looking legs. Its whole body holding zombified flesh, and bulging veins across its whole body, and bat wings that matched the size of the rest of it. On its tall neck was a mane of red fur, and a skull for a head. It looked like two skulls inverted on each other from the eyes down.

His mother… looked like this.

Aelfric… did this to her.

Byleth… allowed this to happen.

He should’ve never listened to Rhea, he should’ve stuck a blade in his throat and dealt with whatever came after.

Byleth looked at his side, his father had his spear in hand, and tears in his eyes. Noticing his gaze, Jeralt looked at him through the tears and gave him a solemn nod. They both knew what had to be done, though it might break them.

“Alois! Seteth! Get over here!” Byleth yelled through a hoarse voice. Alois came running without another word, weapons at the ready. Seteth didn’t come as fast, but he eventually heard him bring his lance and his self up next to his father.

“Byleth.” He heard Rhea’s voice come up next to him. He looked over to her as she picked a blade off a dead mercenary’s corpse and ready herself like a longtime veteran. “Allow me to aid you.” She came the rest of the way up, directly to his right.

Byleth gave her a nod. He turned his head towards the students. No matter they be Wolf, Lion, Eagle, or Deer, they all stood frozen in terror at the very sight.

“Run, kids. We’ll take care of this. We need you to defend the town, case anything happens to us.”

Whatever protest they had, if they had any, was ignored by Byleth. He turned his head back to the enemy. The beast scanned the room at the five in front of them, then letting out a roar. It came out in two voices: a man’s and a woman’s.

“Rhea.” Byleth said.

“Yes?”

“You and I need to have a long, long talk if we get out of this.” He said, gravel in his voice.

Rhea didn’t say anything back, so he looked at her through the side of his eye. She was staring at the ground pathetically. Then she closed her eyes.

“I owe you much more than that.” She finally said, raising her head replacing her pathetic look with one of steel.

At least Byleth had something to look forward to.

“I’ll try and keep it in place, get whatever hits you can. Do not, get hit.”

No one gave a word back. There was none needed.

“Go.”

Byleth swung his sword, aiming for the chest of the beast. It didn’t very deep, but the Sword of the Creator sunk a few inches deep into the hide of the beast. The best gave another dual-tone wail, shaking it’s head a little.

Seteth focused on sending casts of Nosferatu at it, chipping its life force bit by bit. Alois and Jeralt focused on the limbs on each side, dodging its flailing legs.

It was Rhea that was the star of its show. Rhea was dodging headbutts and the beasts’ claws like they were circus attractions. She leaped and dodged and danced around the beast's attacks, offering simple ripostes and counters after every hit.

Byleth retracted his sword and charged forward. Raising his blade again, he tried digging the sword into the beasts’ chest once more. This time, it brought its wings down, crossing them in front of him and shielding itself from his blade. The moment the sword touched them, he brought them back around with a massive roar, the gust of wind from the momentum made Byleth and the rest of them backward, in varying degrees of grace.

Seteth and Alois went flying. Jeralt went sliding until falling down on his back. Byleth slid back and then landed on his knees. Rhea fell to the ground as gracefully as ever.

Byleth used his sword as an aid to get back to his feet. Jeralt slowly rose as well, panting as he struggled and clutching his chest. Probably broke a rib.

“Anybody got any ideas?” Jeralt asked between pants.

“Kill the fucking thing.”

Byleth waited for nothing. He charged forward to the beast’s left, slashing its front and hind legs as much as he could. He weaved between claw slashes. He saw vague flashes of green on the other side of the beast, Rhea apparently mirroring his own idea on its right.

But as much as they were doing to the beast, nothing they were doing was having any effect on the thing. It was moving just as fast and swinging just as hard as the moment they began this fight. He had to try something new.

Hitting its chest made the thing cry, which was the only thing that made the beast have any effect. In fact, it brought its wings around itself just so it didn’t get hit again. Meaning that must be a weak spot, or at least, it hurt it a lot.

It gave him an idea.

Byleth ran from the beast’s side to its front again. He raised his blade, same as he did before. The beast’s wings came around to shield him, same as before. Byleth thrust his sword forward, same as before.

The only difference from this attempt is the glowing of the Crest of Flames on his hand. The Sword of the Creator was bathed in a menacing crimson light.

The sword pierced directly through its wings like a nail through wood and into its chest. It brought out its biggest and loudest scream yet.

Byleth loosened his blade and ran around the beast, wrapping its legs in the serrated sections of the out-stretched blades. He spun around the legs and looped around its body again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

And again.

Until the beast was brought to its knees.

“Now!” He yelled to the other two comrades who were still ready.

Rhea and Jeralt descended on it, slashing and stabbing at the fallen beast like bats out of hell. Spear strikes and sword slashes turned it's already scarred and damaged hide into barely a few steps closer to mincemeat. Gashes and lacerations and holes melded into the already malformed hide. No matter how many times they stabbed it, slashed it, thrust upon it, the beast never spewed any blood, only letting out pained roars.

Those roars turned into pained whimpers as the beast simply took the hits, powerless to stop it as it was held to the ground by the almost otherworldly powers of the Sword of the Creator. The beast fell to its knees like an injured animal, lying on the ground with its belly laying on the stone-cold ground.

When their hits had no more effect, did Rhea and Jeralt finally stop their swings and thrusts. They let their weapons fall to their side and looked at Byleth.

Byleth couldn’t feel what his face looked like, it wasn’t anything pretty, he could safely fathom that. His teeth clenched in fear of screaming something he may forget. His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes that stared at the skull of the beast that was trapped within the wires of his sword.

He let his sword fall apart and retract to its original state. He spared his father and Rhea no passing glance as he stepped forward, towards the beast that lay dying on the ground. It let out pained, shallow breaths in its two distinct voices.

Byleth got on one knee and examined the head. He didn’t notice it before, but one of the skulls looked smaller than the other one. Wasn’t hard to guess which one that belonged to.

“Mother…” He put a hand on that side of the skull, whispering to himself. “I’m… sorry that we had to meet like this, and I’m sorry that I have to do this to you again.”

He removed his hand from the skull and raised his sword.

“Aelfric, rot in hell.”

He plunged the Sword of the Creator into its skull. The beast let out one final breath as it drifted off into whatever may come after for it.

At last, Byleth sent Aelfric to rot.

But he couldn’t help but feel as though he did the same to his mother.

* * *

The fight with the malformed fusion of Sitri and Aelfric had ended hours ago. The beast’s body was being taken care of by the Church itself, scholars and researchers salivating over the chance to study it. Rhea had given the decision to Byleth and Jeralt, seeing as it was half of their family that the deceased was. They had yet to give an answer.

The surface dwellers that visited the Abyss finally left the dark place, returning the world of the sun where the students were able to finally get some sun and proper rest. They wanted to be a part of the debriefing but Byleth told them off. There was no way in hell that he wanted to talk to anyone before he got the chance to talk to Rhea. The Ashen Wolves were summoned above ground as well, although they were a part of the Abyss, it was technically under Rhea’s control as well.

Alois and Jeralt were off drinking, Seteth was doing paperwork, the students were doing whatever students did.

Which left Rhea and Byleth, within the Archbishop’s chambers, about to have a conversation twenty years in the making.

They were separated by an ornate wood table, cup of tea on one side, cup of coffee on the other. They sat staring into each other’s eyes waiting for one of them to make the first move.

Despite the wait, neither of them felt any tension.

“What happened to my mother, Rhea?” Byleth let out. His arms folded over themselves as he leaned forward on the table.

Rhea stared into her cup of tea for a moment.

“Sitri passed giving birth to you, as your father most likely told you. After you were born, you were born nearly still. You had no heartbeat, but were breathing normally, like you were simply sleeping. Our healers said that you would pass within the week should nothing be done.” She shut clenched her eyes hard. “Sitri came to me, holding you in her arms, telling me to save you and give you her heart.”

Byleth lowered his gaze to his drink. When he stared at Rhea, he felt his eyes hardened, accentuate, narrow, like the woman in front of him was trying to lead him on. Perhaps that’s not far from how he truly felt. He felt that there was so much that he hadn’t been told. Not that he was lied to, per se, but that was kept barely out of sight and hidden within it. He raised the cup and took a deep chug, almost finishing the whole thing.

“Rhea. Don’t lie to me.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him, befuddled.

He raised his head and looked at her.

“Are you my grandmother?”

…

Rhea’s silence was all he needed to hear.

He sat back on the wooden chair, hands on his lap and staring at them.

He didn’t feel satisfaction, or confusion, or… anything, really. No gap within his life was filled in at the prospect of meeting his only other blood relative, it felt the same. He was face to face with his mother, and despite how that was the highest form of emotion that he’s ever felt in his entire life, there was no gap filled on that either. He snorted.

Maybe family wasn’t all that after all.

He raised his head, the only question in his head on this topic left.

“Do I have a grandfather?”

…

Rhea stayed silent, but that didn’t give him an answer this time.

A few moments passed, and she covered her mouth with her hand as she clenched her eyes again. Byleth was just about to ask her if she was alright, and then she let out a squeak.

She squeaked.

Rhea squeaked.

The archbishop squeaked.

It was so funny that it made Byleth let out a few breaths of laughter.

Rhea removed her hand from her mouth to reveal a smile and fixed a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

“I apologize, child, that was… not what I was expecting. I have to ask, what gave it away?” She asked.

“Hair and eyes.” He answered without skipping a beat. “It’s not Seteth, is it?” He said, very reluctantly, after a pause.

Rhea rolled her eyes.

“No, Goddess no.”

Byleth couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath but steeled himself once more.

“You all have to be related in some way. Green hair, green eyes. It’s not a coincidence.” He said.

Rhea gazed at Byleth for a moment.

“In some way or another, I won’t do anything more than say ‘yes’.” She said, completely straight-faced.

He shrugged, more than enough for him. The specifics hardly mattered.

Next topic.

“Why was my mother down there, like that?”

He saw Rhea swallow.

“Those of the higher office of the Church are touched by the Goddess, in a way, similar to you. I, my siblings, and those related by blood to us; our bodies work in different ways. When we die, our bodies do not decay, it stays still and unchanged.” Her eyes fell to the table. “When… Sitri died, I couldn’t bear myself to bury her body and put her in the ground. I’ve visited her body more times than I could count, but lately, I haven’t had much of the opportunity to do so. I never knew that Aelfric had moved her until after he took it to the Abyss and used the Ashen Wolves.”

Ah yes, the Ashen Wolves.

Yuri was the only one actually to be shoehorned into helping Aelfric. Yuri spilled his heart out to Byleth after the fight, who Byleth was sure was only doing so that he didn’t shove his sword in the same place in his skull that he did Aelfric’s. Yuri was forced by the cardinal when he took his mother hostage and made him an accomplice. Byleth didn’t really blame him, he certainly didn’t feel any better after putting down that Demonic Beast; that feeling of rage and anger didn’t go down anymore when he drove his sword into one side of its head. He wouldn’t feel any better if he did the same thing to Yuri.

The other Wolves didn’t have anything to do with him, so he didn’t feel any ill will towards them.

As for what he felt toward Rhea: it was nothing. All of his answers, that he assumed would make him feel something, anything. Maybe not as much as he did when he almost stabbed Aelfric in the back, but anything. Anything at all.

He felt no anger towards her selfishly keeping her body like some kind of confessional.

He didn’t feel any jealousy.

He didn’t feel any ill will, at all.

That surprised him, to a point.

The only thing that he still felt was the constant feeling of hatred towards Aelfric for what he’s done. All for a woman who was out of his reach, the Goddess-damned fool.

Byleth blew air out of his nose and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know that all this emotion would make him so tired.

“One more thing.”

Rhea looked back up.

“What is to be done with the Wolves?”

“The only thing that kept that house from tumbling down was Aelfric. Now that he’s no longer with us, I see no reason to have it continue.” She said plainly.

“How many students are in that house?”

“Just those four.”

Byleth leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table.

“Then let me offer you an idea.”

“Go on.” She said, intrigued.

“I know what you named that house after.”

Rhea’s face didn’t move.

“A long abolished part of the Knights of Seiros. A division for underground operations, and those that most people would not want to do.” He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Enroll those kids in the academy for the year, let them finish their education. While they do that, they can work for me. After the year is up, they can decide whether they want to stay, or if they want to take their chances somewhere else.” He offered, stone-faced.

Rhea kept her eyes locked with Byleth’s, and a small and knowing smile came onto her face.

“You’ve thought about this for some time.” She said.

He nodded.

“If they do their jobs well, we benefit. If they fail, we pin it on them like they were on their own, and we benefit. Either way, we don’t lose.”

“You are brave to offer the Archbishop such a thing.”

“I believe the Archbishop to have acted on worse things than this.”

Her smile fell, for a moment. Her eyes stared in the space next to him, like she saw a ghost.

Just as fast as it left, her smile came back.

“I’ll allow you to do as you see fit.” She said.

“If only she knew…” Sothis mumbled.

Byleth’s foray into the library led way to many theories in his own head. Some that were confirmed: Rhea being his grandmother, Rhea and everyone with green hair in this Church being related to one another.

Some were what he needed to confirm, maybe that wouldn’t be for the rest of his life: is Edelgard a descendant of Seiros? Is the history of the war from centuries ago altered by the Church, and if yes, why?

Most interesting, and equally terrifying: are Seiros and Rhea the same person?

An outlandish story, an incredulous idea. They are centuries apart in time, there’s no way someone has lived for three hundred years.

And yet…

If Sitri’s body had never decayed, does their body ever age? Just as their body never loses its youthful shape, does it continue whether they’re dead or alive.

Unless Byleth could live for a thousand years, he might never know.

Then again, Rhea said he was ‘touched by the Goddess’ in a way similar to her. He might stay looking indifferently young forever. If he did, he would have his answer, to most of his questions.

Byleth downed the rest of his coffee, now barely warm, putting the cup back on the table with a soft ‘clink’.

“How about we talk about somethings that aren’t as depressing or serious?” Byleth asked, getting up and pouring himself another cup from a rolling cart next to the table.

Rhea simply smiled, and let Byleth take the conversation where he wished.

* * *

Byleth took a sip of his drink: some aged something or other from a small glass. He smacked his lips and stared at the glass like it punched him in the face. His father taught him that if a drink tastes like medicine, then it is some crappy booze.

This was some crappy booze in his hand.

It wasn’t that Byleth didn’t disagree on his father’s creed, but a lot of the fun of being drunk was that he could let loose, yet it was very hard for him to get drunk. If he did, he acted the same. The company always gave him a hard time about it, but it ended up with just him not bothering to drink around them.

The only reason he was sitting in this tavern, a few miles away from the Monastery, late at night, is that his father had invited him out to talk about the thing that was hanging over both of their heads for the past day and a half.

Byleth had spent the past day and a half sleeping the fatigue to his body, mind, and emotions away; from what little he interacted with his father since he had done the same. What little time Jeralt didn’t spend sleeping was done either fishing in the forest outside the monastery or smacking a training dummy like it had Aelfric’s face stuck onto it.

Byleth would have to remember that for the next time.

Without a word, someone came up to the stool on his right at the bar and sat down on it. Byleth could see the familiar orange tabard of his father through the side of his eyes. He raised the bartender with a ‘two’ sign from his hand, who brought father and son another round of booze.

Jeralt raised the glass, gave it a good sniff, and took a swig. He put the glass down on the bar top and stared at it like he was just punched in the face, then stared at his son, who shrugged in response before taking another sip. Jeralt sighed.

“You talk to Rhea?” He asked.

Byleth nodded.

“Yeah.”

“You get answers?”

“Yeah.”

“Same.”

…

“You want to talk about it?” Jeralt asked with apprehension.

Byleth downed the last of his last glass and moved it aside on the counter, moving the fresh one closer. He stared at the empty glass. He shrugged and shook his head.

“I… don’t really have anything to say. Or want to ask.” He admitted.

“How come?”

“I never knew her. I don’t… I wasn’t attached to her, like you were. Just with the name.” He shifted his eyes from the glass to the bar top when the barkeep took it away. He took a sip of the new one. It wasn’t the same brew as the last one, this was more grainy and clear. Gin was his guess. Just as crappy as the other stuff.

“I… that’s fair.” Jeralt grimaced before downing some more of the refined piss in front of him. He shook his head and set the glass down. Byleth was guessing not because it was strong, but because it was making him miss the alcohol of the empire right now.

Technically, they were in the empire, but Byleth needed some way to make a joke.

“When I was talking to Rhea about why Sitri was down there, I felt so pissed. More than I’ve been since before I was a Knight of Seiros.” He let out a shaky breath. “The last time I ever saw her, was the night she went into labor. She was in labor for hours, until the morning, when you were finally born.” He shook his head. “I held you in my arms when she told me Sitri passed.”

…

Byleth really didn’t know what to say to that.

He couldn’t know what to say to that.

“You know what she told me once?” He looked at Byleth. “She said that she wanted you to be a professor.”

Byleth couldn’t help but let out a snicker. How the chips have fallen. Jeralt let out a smile.

“Imagine her surprise to know how much you hated that idea, enough to tell the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros ‘no’ directly to her face.” He let out a laugh. “You think Seteth had a fit, you should’ve seen her when she was upset. It was like a hurricane.”

Byleth’s smile grew larger.

“Better yet, imagine how pissed she’d be when she found out you’re doing the same thing I did?”

Byleth let out a laugh, that made his father laugh.

They both got quiet again, but the room felt a little brighter to just the two of them.

“Hey.”

Byleth angled his head toward his father.

“I want you to know, that I think you’re doing a good job with the captain business. I know it seems like it’s easy on the outside, and there’s not many decisions to make, but those decisions are nothing if not hard.” He scratched his beard. “I don’t know if you’re the type to care, but I am proud of you.”

“Why wouldn’t I care?” Byleth asked.

“I never cared about my parents being proud of me or not.”

“Why’s that?”

Jeralt shrugged.

“Dunno, was just the kind of kid I was.”

Byleth shook his head with a small smirk.

“Thanks, old man.”

That next morning, Byleth got to deal with the lovely bit of paperwork piling up on his desk. A ton of it had to do with Rhea ‘borrowing’ soldiers to deal with the Abyss. The ‘notes’ section of it didn’t detail much, ‘security’ in dainty cursive bordering calligraphy was all that was written. Truth be told, he could care less of what happened to that place, all that remained were bad memories and hellish corpses.

One of the other bits on his desk was the admission form for the Ashen Wolves to the Officer’s Academy. They had no prior families, on paper, at least. For a few of them, they did have surviving family, but these Wolves were ashen, they were ghosts, black lines on redacted documents.

This meant that as their employer, he was their caretaker as well. They were all above 18, but the academy had some shtick about formalities with parental figures. Byleth couldn’t care less about any of it and could only be bothered to care to simply sign the damn things.

Byleth was to write which house they were to be instated into, as they couldn’t be their own house, lest the whole Church rise in an uproar. Funnily enough, he found documents that listed their names when he was perusing Seteth’s files, much to his annoyance. Balthus had graduated years ago and was 26, which Byleth needed a minute to recover after learning that tidbit. Yuri was expelled due to ‘scandalous conduct’, which Byleth could absolutely believe. Constance was expelled because of the situation surrounding her house, she couldn’t afford tuition regardless. Hapi was the only one who was missing, telling him that she was never enrolled to begin with.

In those cases, some of these decisions were made simply. Byleth dipped a quill into ink and began to fill out the last remaining field for each of the Wolves.

Yuri, as before, will be a Blue Lion.

Constance, as before, will be a Black Eagle.

Hapi will be a Golden Deer.

Balthus would be added to the Golden Deer in an attendant capacity for Hapi, lest her ‘condition’ whatever it was blows up the academy grounds.

Byleth was never privy to Hapi’s ailment, when he was told that she had something and she asked, she just shrugged and said ‘who knows’.

He figured that one day she would if she felt the need, the other three had their own secrets and hardships and horror stories. They weren’t normal students, that was for sure, and they would be treated as such. By him. Not by the teachers, they were under strict orders from Rhea that they were transfers.

Good thing that Hannemana and Manuela weren’t around for these kids, those two being recent hires themselves; else this would be one difficult situation.

He set aside those papers for the ink to dry and stared at the tower of paper on the other side of the desk. He sat back with his fingers interlocked as he watched Sothis dangle her legs as she sat on top of the paper. He bit his cheek and blew air out his nose.

Sothis turned her head around to look over her shoulder, his eyes locked on the paper that sat under her, jaw working around.

“Something on your mind?” She asked.

He shook his head, but still spoke up.

“Just wondering on what could’ve gone different.” He said, gravel in his throat.

Sothis whipped her body around to face him. Her movements made no change to the paper she was precariously dangling off of.

“That your mother’s body might still be untainted?”

He nodded.

“That Aelfric might’ve suffered for his crimes?”

He nodded.

“That you had been more dilligent?”

…

He nodded.

“I wonder then why you didn’t use Divine Pulse in that cathedral?” She asked with some pomp.

He flicked his eyes up to her, then back down.

“Because at that point, there was nothing I could do to stop him. I didn’t know something was wrong until it was right in front of me.”

“Mmhm.” Sothis made a noise of affirmation. “Perhaps things could’ve turned out better in a perfect world, but you got some things out of this, too. You got to see your mother, you got to understand a little bit more about Rhea, and…”

She gestured to the newly-placed picture frame on the left corner of his desk.

Inside held a pressed flower, a carnation, that his mother had held onto and was given to her on one of the very first meetings between his parents. He was given to it by Rhea, who held onto it for twenty years.

Something that was once hers was now his. Something to remember the mother he never met, and a reminder to be better.

Byleth gave a small, sad look to it, but smiled despite it.

“Yeah. I did”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord kill me now.
> 
> you might be wondering why the dlc was cut down to two chapters. well the answers simple, it was always going to be. that, plus the actual game stretches out the story a little because it's dlc and all. that's cool, but turning into something that's purely a narrative form makes it hell to write, and nothing that I did ever felt like it wasn't dragging itself out. so instead u get a 5k word boss fight.
> 
> ik the pacing feels a little off between the last two chapters, but this is a side story, it'll happen in a game like this. the pacing was slow as hell anyway.
> 
> other than that, the first half of this i wanted to read like a horror novel. i think it turned out alright, I've never written something like that before.
> 
> byleth was drinking bourbon, btw. just cause that was the last thing i drank.
> 
> everytime i say that something may or not come out sooner, i end up taking twice as long to write it, so I'm just gonna shut up.
> 
> later ya'll, I'm gonna go to work now.


End file.
